fic: You Don't Know Me, But You Will
Title: You Don’t Know Me, But You Will
Author: stttmsbwa
Pairing: Drake/Josh
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,200
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, I would have so. much. fun.
A/N: Crossover with Gossip Girl in which Josh is kind of like Dan and Jenny Humphrey rolled into one and where Drake plays Chuck Bass with a bit of Serena's history. Also includes a Vanessa!Mindy and Blair!Megan. First part of a miniseries I decided needed to be written.
Summary: Josh Nichols is pretty much the least known person at his private school, where money and fame are all on the menu for a New York City teenage socialite. So when he gets a personal invite to attend a Parker party? He's there, and not just because Drake Parker himself is back from a year long absence.
The thing is, Josh hasn’t ever been to one of these kinds of parties before. Hasn’t been invited to a party since the third grade, from when he’d been in public school back in his Brooklyn neighborhood.
So it’s fitting that he feels out of place and underdressed around these crowds of teenage socialites, the faces that see the Upper East Side more often in a week than Josh ever will his entire life, sipping martinis and chattering their trite yet deliciously malicious gossip about one another like it’s as common as the weather and even more important than a breaking news headline.
Josh usually sees these people in the daylight, unfortunately yet so gratefully blessed with a scholarship to the elitist boarding school that forces Josh to commingle with these vapid - and amazingly dressed, he has to confess - spoiled rich kids.
He should have listened to Mindy - Mindy, who eschews all these elitists like the plague because she can, because she had the power and the self control to do so - but instead he’s let himself wander 60 blocks away from familiar territory.
All because of a small and elegant invitation tucked inside his sports jacket - addressed to him. Josh Nichols, invited to a Gossip Girl worthy soirée (not that Josh reads Gossip Girl…often. And not that it’s bad anyway, since it’s always a good thing for you to know what’s going on with the people around you - even if you don’t actually know them).
So he’s here, dressed in plain jeans, a light blue button-up and his dad’s old sports jacket, not talking to anyone since he doesn’t actually know anyone.
And he’s not looking for anyone in particular either. Not looking for one face that he’s always looking for, ever since he’d first bumped into said face in sixth grade, back when he’d first been thrusted into the world of private schooling.
He hears the tittering whispers, the tickings of keyboards as people talk and talk about one person.
Drake Parker. The It Boy of the upper end of Manhattan. Son of wealth, god of sex, Drake Parker has ways of getting whatever and whoever he wants.
And even though he’d been gone for a year, disappeared off to some boarding school in Connecticut for reasons unknown, people still talked and people still wanted a piece of Drake Parker.
Josh maybe perhaps included.
Which explains why he’s here, why he’s letting himself dive into the lion’s den of disaster and debauchery. The invitation in his pocket, signed with a delicate Parker.
So Josh is not looking around, not searching for the tell-tale smirk of Drake Parker, the elegant and suave presence of an eighteen-year-old who already has everything.
Or, well, he is. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
“You came,” a soft voice rifts from behind his shoulder. Josh turns and finds a familiar face.
Megan Parker, youngest of the Parker line and Queen Bee of the teen elite of New York City. She grins, and if Josh were straight he would have imagined the feel of her satin dress under his fingers and the taste of her lips.
She’s scarily gorgeous, and her knowing grin says she’s fully aware of it.
“He’s up there,” she continues without any answer from Josh, raising a casual hand to point up towards the balcony of the club. Josh follows her movement and sees past the thrumming crowd, perched on the back of a couch with his arms around two different girls, the sight of Drake Parker, talking and smiling like he was born to charm people into instant bliss.
Josh turns back to thank Megan, ask her if Drake had sent the invitation and if he knew Josh at all, but she’s gone. And Josh decides that it doesn’t matter anyway. Not right now.
He makes his way towards the stairs, pushing past peers and even some people that he’s sure US Weekly follows religiously. In almost no time Josh finds himself standing before the couch, taking in the sight of Drake surrounded by giggling tipsy girls.
Josh tries hard to not wish he were one of them.
When Drake finally notices Josh he does a small double take, eyes widening a little as he grins wide and smirks, “I know you.”
He steps up and away from the girls, batting away a few hands as he slips past to reach Josh. Grasping the crook of Josh’s elbow, Drake guides him towards the roof access, snagging two glasses and a bottle of champagne off a table along the way.
They climb two flights of stairs before they reach the roof, neither of them speaking a word. Drake leads them to the concrete edge, setting down the glasses so he can pop the cork and pour the champagne.
“So. Josh, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies bashfully. “That’s me. And you’re - ”
“And I’m Drake Parker,” he smiles, handing a glass to Josh as he drinks from his own. “I know.”
Josh takes the glass, and even though he usually doesn’t drink very much at all, he downs half the glass and grins back before coughing at the bittersweet taste slipping down his throat.
Drake laughs lightly and moves a little closer to Josh, left hand reaching up to trail a finger across Josh’s shoulder. Shivering at the touch, Josh stammers, “So, you wanna, like, talk or something?”
“Talk? About what?”
“You know,” Josh elaborates with a nervous smile. “Stuff. Like, what your favorite color is, or what you like to watch on TV, or what your favorite kind of food is, or - ”
Drake places a finger to Josh’s lips, shhhing him softly.
“No. Talk later. Drink now.”
Josh nods numbly as Drake’s finger drops back to his shoulder to trace small circles against the fabric of his jacket. He lifts his glass to take another mouthful, not even noticing that Drake had filled his glass back up when Josh wasn’t looking.
“So how do you even know me? I mean, why do you even know me? I’m not really…of your crowd.”
“I’m Drake Parker. I know everything.”
Josh bites his lip as Drake sets down his glass and unwinds the silk scarf that sits around his neck. Drake smirks when he catches Josh watching, taking his time to unbutton his suit jacket before stepping back into Josh’s personal space.
Gulping, Josh continues to just watch as Drake takes away Josh’s glass, reaching back over to smooth his hands over Josh’s chest.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“This,” Drake winks as he pushes up and plants a curious kiss to Josh’s lips.
And he wants to blame it on surprise, blame it on the fuzzy effects of the alcohol - but he can’t deny the hot drive of desire that rushes through his body. Can’t deny that he kisses Drake back, groans a little as he wraps his arms around Drake’s waist and presses his lips hard against Drake’s.
The scarf falls to the ground as Drake shuffles backwards until the small of his back is braced against the concrete ledge, allowing legs to slot into each other and hips to connect.
The heat and rush of Drake’s body against his own sends Josh into a frenzy. He gasps at the feel of Drake’s tongue sweeping a beg for entrance against his lips, his teeth. When he lets Drake in, knees wobble at the velvety touch of tongue sliding over tongue.
Drake grunts and twists his fingers into Josh’s hair, viciously attacking Josh’s mouth with deep, hungry kisses. As Josh yanks Drake’s body closer, he wanders his hands lower to grasp at the firm ass beneath those Armani dress pants. Thrusting up a little when Josh squeezes softly, Drake pulls away from Josh’s mouth and grins wickedly at the dazed and flushed look on Josh’s face.
“Blow me.”
And when he feels Drake start pushing his head lower, closer to the hard on that Josh had felt rubbing against his thigh just a minute ago, Josh almost does it. Josh almost takes to his weak knees, tugs Drake’s sinfully tight-fitting pants down and sucks his cock into his own watering mouth.
But he doesn’t. He stops and frowns at Drake. Who starts to frown back.
“What?” he whispers, trying not to push Drake fully away just yet, because he isn’t done counting the number of freckles on his nose. Maybe Josh heard him wrong, maybe Drake is kidding.
Drake furrows his brow and taps at Josh’s forehead. “What do you mean what?”
“I - I didn’t know that we were gonna do that. Here. So fast. I mean, we just met, kinda, and - ”
Scoffing, Drake crinkles his nose and holds back a bark of laughter. “Why else do you think we’re here? Now, are you gonna suck my dick or not?”
Josh sighs and shakes his head. Rolling his eyes, Drake shoves Josh aside and dusts himself off. Watching Drake preen - running a hand through his slightly mussed hair and rebuttoning his jacket - Josh rubs at his still-flushed face and tries to figure out what had just happened.
Drake doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look back as he strides back towards the door and down the stairs to the club. Josh stands for a moment longer, letting his eyes stare at the two glasses and the half empty bottle that still sit on the concrete.
And then he sees it, the soft red and black of Drake’s scarf from where it lays on the dirty ground. He bends to pick it up, fingering it a little and lifting it to his nose to sniff.
It smells like cologne and whiskey and Drake.
He thinks about it for a moment, eyes drifting to look out on the city. Nodding to himself, he grips the scarf in one hand, grabs the fuller glass of champagne and downs it for courage before rushing for the open door.
Josh nearly trips down the stairs in his hurry, almost knocks over a trio of skanky sophomores who’ve had way too much to drink - but he doesn’t care. His eyes search the sea of people, squinting in the dim lighting until he finds a glimpse of auburn hair.
Drake’s nearly to the exit of the club, walking with speed and purpose.
Josh almost makes a scene, pushing and excusing himself past the richest teenagers he’ll ever see to get to the richest, cockiest of them all.
When he finally makes it out the door, he finds Drake climbing into his limo. The door shuts behind him and Josh sprints to the vehicle, hand slamming against the tinted glass. The window rolls down after a few seconds and Drake’s face appears, smirk back in place.
“Change your mind?”
Josh heaves a labored breath and quickly shakes his head, instead lifting Drake’s scarf in explanation. Drake’s expression softens as he reaches a hand out of the window to claim his scarf. He pauses for a moment, fingers tracing the bold designs, before rolling the window back up.
Josh’s about to turn and leave, almost a hundred percent sure that that was Drake’s terrible version of thank you and goodbye, but then the door opens and Drake holds his hand out. Josh blanches, his mouth dropping in surprise.
“Come on, Joshua. Get in or walk the fuck away.”
He doesn’t wait any longer, clumsily grasping Drake’s hand and letting himself be tugged into the leather exterior of the slick black limousine. As soon as he takes in his surroundings, he turns back to Drake.
“Hey. Thanks for the ride. It’s kind of a long walk back to Brooklyn. Wasn’t really looking forward to it, you know?”
Drake narrows his eyes and holds a finger up. Josh hushes and Drake smiles, reaching over to pat Josh’s hair into a semblance of messy-neat and to yank Josh’s collar over his jacket.
“There. Quiet and somewhat less slobish.”
Josh flushes a little but keeps his mouth shut. No need to ruin his free ride. But when looks out the window and sees that they’re not driving at all in the right direction, he says, “Uh. I did mention that I live in Brooklyn, right? Cause I don’t think we’re going anywhere near the bridge.”
“You’re not going to Brooklyn. At least not tonight. I’m not driving all the way out there. I’m tired as fuck. We’re going back to my hotel suite.”
“Hotel suite?” Josh squeaks, his eyes bulging a little at the thought of being alone. With Drake Parker. In his private, personal live-in suite.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I - just let me out here. I can get a cab and - ”
Drake chuckles and places a hand over Josh’s knee, silencing him with one raised eyebrow.
“Don’t be so freaked out. We’re just going to go to sleep. There’s a couch you can crash on. And it’s not like I’m going to make you suck me off.” He grins wolfishly as he adds, “Unless you want to, that is.”
They both laugh a little and Drake removes his hand from Josh’s leg, turning his head to stare out the window.
Josh’s heart rate slows down as he realizes that he won’t be forced into any kind of sexual situations (which a part of him seriously thinks is a shame). At least for now. And he supposes since he’s tired enough to fall asleep where he sits that maybe this would be for the best. That maybe Drake is just being nice.
And maybe Drake Parker isn’t so bad after all.
[to be continued]
Author: stttmsbwa
Pairing: Drake/Josh
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,200
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, I would have so. much. fun.
A/N: Crossover with Gossip Girl in which Josh is kind of like Dan and Jenny Humphrey rolled into one and where Drake plays Chuck Bass with a bit of Serena's history. Also includes a Vanessa!Mindy and Blair!Megan. First part of a miniseries I decided needed to be written.
Summary: Josh Nichols is pretty much the least known person at his private school, where money and fame are all on the menu for a New York City teenage socialite. So when he gets a personal invite to attend a Parker party? He's there, and not just because Drake Parker himself is back from a year long absence.
The thing is, Josh hasn’t ever been to one of these kinds of parties before. Hasn’t been invited to a party since the third grade, from when he’d been in public school back in his Brooklyn neighborhood.
So it’s fitting that he feels out of place and underdressed around these crowds of teenage socialites, the faces that see the Upper East Side more often in a week than Josh ever will his entire life, sipping martinis and chattering their trite yet deliciously malicious gossip about one another like it’s as common as the weather and even more important than a breaking news headline.
Josh usually sees these people in the daylight, unfortunately yet so gratefully blessed with a scholarship to the elitist boarding school that forces Josh to commingle with these vapid - and amazingly dressed, he has to confess - spoiled rich kids.
He should have listened to Mindy - Mindy, who eschews all these elitists like the plague because she can, because she had the power and the self control to do so - but instead he’s let himself wander 60 blocks away from familiar territory.
All because of a small and elegant invitation tucked inside his sports jacket - addressed to him. Josh Nichols, invited to a Gossip Girl worthy soirée (not that Josh reads Gossip Girl…often. And not that it’s bad anyway, since it’s always a good thing for you to know what’s going on with the people around you - even if you don’t actually know them).
So he’s here, dressed in plain jeans, a light blue button-up and his dad’s old sports jacket, not talking to anyone since he doesn’t actually know anyone.
And he’s not looking for anyone in particular either. Not looking for one face that he’s always looking for, ever since he’d first bumped into said face in sixth grade, back when he’d first been thrusted into the world of private schooling.
He hears the tittering whispers, the tickings of keyboards as people talk and talk about one person.
Drake Parker. The It Boy of the upper end of Manhattan. Son of wealth, god of sex, Drake Parker has ways of getting whatever and whoever he wants.
And even though he’d been gone for a year, disappeared off to some boarding school in Connecticut for reasons unknown, people still talked and people still wanted a piece of Drake Parker.
Josh maybe perhaps included.
Which explains why he’s here, why he’s letting himself dive into the lion’s den of disaster and debauchery. The invitation in his pocket, signed with a delicate Parker.
So Josh is not looking around, not searching for the tell-tale smirk of Drake Parker, the elegant and suave presence of an eighteen-year-old who already has everything.
Or, well, he is. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
“You came,” a soft voice rifts from behind his shoulder. Josh turns and finds a familiar face.
Megan Parker, youngest of the Parker line and Queen Bee of the teen elite of New York City. She grins, and if Josh were straight he would have imagined the feel of her satin dress under his fingers and the taste of her lips.
She’s scarily gorgeous, and her knowing grin says she’s fully aware of it.
“He’s up there,” she continues without any answer from Josh, raising a casual hand to point up towards the balcony of the club. Josh follows her movement and sees past the thrumming crowd, perched on the back of a couch with his arms around two different girls, the sight of Drake Parker, talking and smiling like he was born to charm people into instant bliss.
Josh turns back to thank Megan, ask her if Drake had sent the invitation and if he knew Josh at all, but she’s gone. And Josh decides that it doesn’t matter anyway. Not right now.
He makes his way towards the stairs, pushing past peers and even some people that he’s sure US Weekly follows religiously. In almost no time Josh finds himself standing before the couch, taking in the sight of Drake surrounded by giggling tipsy girls.
Josh tries hard to not wish he were one of them.
When Drake finally notices Josh he does a small double take, eyes widening a little as he grins wide and smirks, “I know you.”
He steps up and away from the girls, batting away a few hands as he slips past to reach Josh. Grasping the crook of Josh’s elbow, Drake guides him towards the roof access, snagging two glasses and a bottle of champagne off a table along the way.
They climb two flights of stairs before they reach the roof, neither of them speaking a word. Drake leads them to the concrete edge, setting down the glasses so he can pop the cork and pour the champagne.
“So. Josh, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies bashfully. “That’s me. And you’re - ”
“And I’m Drake Parker,” he smiles, handing a glass to Josh as he drinks from his own. “I know.”
Josh takes the glass, and even though he usually doesn’t drink very much at all, he downs half the glass and grins back before coughing at the bittersweet taste slipping down his throat.
Drake laughs lightly and moves a little closer to Josh, left hand reaching up to trail a finger across Josh’s shoulder. Shivering at the touch, Josh stammers, “So, you wanna, like, talk or something?”
“Talk? About what?”
“You know,” Josh elaborates with a nervous smile. “Stuff. Like, what your favorite color is, or what you like to watch on TV, or what your favorite kind of food is, or - ”
Drake places a finger to Josh’s lips, shhhing him softly.
“No. Talk later. Drink now.”
Josh nods numbly as Drake’s finger drops back to his shoulder to trace small circles against the fabric of his jacket. He lifts his glass to take another mouthful, not even noticing that Drake had filled his glass back up when Josh wasn’t looking.
“So how do you even know me? I mean, why do you even know me? I’m not really…of your crowd.”
“I’m Drake Parker. I know everything.”
Josh bites his lip as Drake sets down his glass and unwinds the silk scarf that sits around his neck. Drake smirks when he catches Josh watching, taking his time to unbutton his suit jacket before stepping back into Josh’s personal space.
Gulping, Josh continues to just watch as Drake takes away Josh’s glass, reaching back over to smooth his hands over Josh’s chest.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“This,” Drake winks as he pushes up and plants a curious kiss to Josh’s lips.
And he wants to blame it on surprise, blame it on the fuzzy effects of the alcohol - but he can’t deny the hot drive of desire that rushes through his body. Can’t deny that he kisses Drake back, groans a little as he wraps his arms around Drake’s waist and presses his lips hard against Drake’s.
The scarf falls to the ground as Drake shuffles backwards until the small of his back is braced against the concrete ledge, allowing legs to slot into each other and hips to connect.
The heat and rush of Drake’s body against his own sends Josh into a frenzy. He gasps at the feel of Drake’s tongue sweeping a beg for entrance against his lips, his teeth. When he lets Drake in, knees wobble at the velvety touch of tongue sliding over tongue.
Drake grunts and twists his fingers into Josh’s hair, viciously attacking Josh’s mouth with deep, hungry kisses. As Josh yanks Drake’s body closer, he wanders his hands lower to grasp at the firm ass beneath those Armani dress pants. Thrusting up a little when Josh squeezes softly, Drake pulls away from Josh’s mouth and grins wickedly at the dazed and flushed look on Josh’s face.
“Blow me.”
And when he feels Drake start pushing his head lower, closer to the hard on that Josh had felt rubbing against his thigh just a minute ago, Josh almost does it. Josh almost takes to his weak knees, tugs Drake’s sinfully tight-fitting pants down and sucks his cock into his own watering mouth.
But he doesn’t. He stops and frowns at Drake. Who starts to frown back.
“What?” he whispers, trying not to push Drake fully away just yet, because he isn’t done counting the number of freckles on his nose. Maybe Josh heard him wrong, maybe Drake is kidding.
Drake furrows his brow and taps at Josh’s forehead. “What do you mean what?”
“I - I didn’t know that we were gonna do that. Here. So fast. I mean, we just met, kinda, and - ”
Scoffing, Drake crinkles his nose and holds back a bark of laughter. “Why else do you think we’re here? Now, are you gonna suck my dick or not?”
Josh sighs and shakes his head. Rolling his eyes, Drake shoves Josh aside and dusts himself off. Watching Drake preen - running a hand through his slightly mussed hair and rebuttoning his jacket - Josh rubs at his still-flushed face and tries to figure out what had just happened.
Drake doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look back as he strides back towards the door and down the stairs to the club. Josh stands for a moment longer, letting his eyes stare at the two glasses and the half empty bottle that still sit on the concrete.
And then he sees it, the soft red and black of Drake’s scarf from where it lays on the dirty ground. He bends to pick it up, fingering it a little and lifting it to his nose to sniff.
It smells like cologne and whiskey and Drake.
He thinks about it for a moment, eyes drifting to look out on the city. Nodding to himself, he grips the scarf in one hand, grabs the fuller glass of champagne and downs it for courage before rushing for the open door.
Josh nearly trips down the stairs in his hurry, almost knocks over a trio of skanky sophomores who’ve had way too much to drink - but he doesn’t care. His eyes search the sea of people, squinting in the dim lighting until he finds a glimpse of auburn hair.
Drake’s nearly to the exit of the club, walking with speed and purpose.
Josh almost makes a scene, pushing and excusing himself past the richest teenagers he’ll ever see to get to the richest, cockiest of them all.
When he finally makes it out the door, he finds Drake climbing into his limo. The door shuts behind him and Josh sprints to the vehicle, hand slamming against the tinted glass. The window rolls down after a few seconds and Drake’s face appears, smirk back in place.
“Change your mind?”
Josh heaves a labored breath and quickly shakes his head, instead lifting Drake’s scarf in explanation. Drake’s expression softens as he reaches a hand out of the window to claim his scarf. He pauses for a moment, fingers tracing the bold designs, before rolling the window back up.
Josh’s about to turn and leave, almost a hundred percent sure that that was Drake’s terrible version of thank you and goodbye, but then the door opens and Drake holds his hand out. Josh blanches, his mouth dropping in surprise.
“Come on, Joshua. Get in or walk the fuck away.”
He doesn’t wait any longer, clumsily grasping Drake’s hand and letting himself be tugged into the leather exterior of the slick black limousine. As soon as he takes in his surroundings, he turns back to Drake.
“Hey. Thanks for the ride. It’s kind of a long walk back to Brooklyn. Wasn’t really looking forward to it, you know?”
Drake narrows his eyes and holds a finger up. Josh hushes and Drake smiles, reaching over to pat Josh’s hair into a semblance of messy-neat and to yank Josh’s collar over his jacket.
“There. Quiet and somewhat less slobish.”
Josh flushes a little but keeps his mouth shut. No need to ruin his free ride. But when looks out the window and sees that they’re not driving at all in the right direction, he says, “Uh. I did mention that I live in Brooklyn, right? Cause I don’t think we’re going anywhere near the bridge.”
“You’re not going to Brooklyn. At least not tonight. I’m not driving all the way out there. I’m tired as fuck. We’re going back to my hotel suite.”
“Hotel suite?” Josh squeaks, his eyes bulging a little at the thought of being alone. With Drake Parker. In his private, personal live-in suite.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I - just let me out here. I can get a cab and - ”
Drake chuckles and places a hand over Josh’s knee, silencing him with one raised eyebrow.
“Don’t be so freaked out. We’re just going to go to sleep. There’s a couch you can crash on. And it’s not like I’m going to make you suck me off.” He grins wolfishly as he adds, “Unless you want to, that is.”
They both laugh a little and Drake removes his hand from Josh’s leg, turning his head to stare out the window.
Josh’s heart rate slows down as he realizes that he won’t be forced into any kind of sexual situations (which a part of him seriously thinks is a shame). At least for now. And he supposes since he’s tired enough to fall asleep where he sits that maybe this would be for the best. That maybe Drake is just being nice.
And maybe Drake Parker isn’t so bad after all.
[to be continued]