Title: A Small Life
Author: GatorGrrrl
Rating: T+
Warnings: Bad words, angst
Disclaimer: I do not own Drake & Josh. I just like bending them to my will.

Author's Note: I wanted to explore Drake and Megan's relationship a little, so they're basically the only characters in this chapter (Audrey makes a cameo appearance). I know it's been a while since I updated this story; thanks for being patient. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Chapter 5: Kindred

Megan comes home with empty arms and eyes full of grief.

Walking wounded, Drake thinks when he meets her eyes across the living room. Their mom closes the front door and smiles thinly at him over Megan's left shoulder.

"Hi, honey," she says.

"Hey." Drake doesn't look at her. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Megan, who's just standing there listlessly, looking back at him with wide eyes. Apparently no one thought to bring her new clothes because she's wearing a maternity t-shirt that hangs loosely over her small frame like a cruel reminder of what should have been.

The sight of it makes Drake angry and he feels his face get hot. He opens his mouth to speak, but Megan shakes her head, stopping him. Her eyes flit to something behind him, then back to his face. "You could've slept in my bed, you know," she says, walking further into the room. Audrey follows closely behind like a shadow. "That pull-out is atrocious."

A tiny smile tugs at Drake's mouth. "It's not that bad," he says. "Besides, I didn't want to sleep anywhere you'd had sex."

"Drake." Audrey's voice has that edge to it they both recognize from their childhood.

But Megan just smiles, ignoring the admonition. "How do you think I found out how uncomfortable the sofa bed is?"

Drake smirks. It's good to see Megan smile even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Audrey disappear into the kitchen. "That's it. Tonight I'm sleeping on the patio."

Megan's smile widens. "Well…"

"Ew. Stop," Drake says, waving his hands in front of him in surrender. "Too much information."

But Megan's smile suddenly fades as her eyes focus on his hand. She reaches for it, but he snatches it away. "Megan, I–"

"Did you hurt him?" she asks.

He thinks he hears a note of accusation in her voice and feels guilty. Yeah, the prick deserved it, but his sister loved him once. Maybe she still does. "According to Josh, I broke his nose," he answers. When she doesn't say anything, he adds, "I'm sor–"

"Thank you."

Drake doesn't know what to say to that and a long silence passes between them.

"I didn't know you had it in you," she finally says.

He grins crookedly. "Me, neither."

"The last time you defended my honor, you lost the fight."

He laughs. "And my pants."

She smiles wanly at that.

Audrey emerges from the kitchen. "There's absolutely nothing to eat here," she says. "I'm going to the store."

Drake looks at his mom then back at Megan, whose eyes are closed against the sound of their mother's voice. "You know what, Mom?" he says, stepping around his sister. "You look beat. Maybe you should go home. I'll go to the store."

He can see the uncertainty in her eyes as she flits her gaze over his shoulder to look at Megan. Taking a couple steps towards her, he lowers his voice to say, "Please, Mom. Just go. I'll look after her."

Audrey looks at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. She presses her hand to his cheek and he's suddenly aware of the stubble on his face. "I can't stand this," she whispers and looks down, covering her face with her hands.

Drake can only look at her.

"I'm gonna go lie down," Megan says suddenly and Drake watches her walk silently past them down the hall towards her bedroom. He has the urge to run down the hall and close the nursery door before she can look inside, but knows it's pointless. Closing it won't make her forget, won't make it untrue.

But she doesn't even hesitate when she passes it, doesn't even hazard a look, and a moment later the door to her bedroom clicks softly shut.

When he turns his eyes back to his mom, she's raking her fingers under her red-rimmed eyes. "I wish I could take her pain away," she says softly, almost to herself.

"Yeah, well, you can't." The vehemence in his voice surprises even him.

Audrey looks at him sharply and Drake closes his eyes for a moment before looking at her again. "All I'm saying," he says, his voice lower, "is that she's entitled to her pain, you know? And it may not seem like it now, but she needs it. It's something no one can take away from her."

The odd look his mom gives him then makes him flush. When she opens her mouth to speak, he's afraid she's going to ask him something he doesn't want to answer. But all she says is, "The doctor gave her some sleeping pills. She says she doesn't want them, but…" She lets the thought trail off as she digs in her purse. Pulling out her wallet, she opens it and hands him two fifties. "For groceries," she says.

Drake takes the money and shoves it in his left hip pocket, feeling suddenly sixteen years old again, asking for his allowance. "Thanks."

She turns her head to look down the hall for a moment then drags her gaze back to him. "Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Any time."

"Mom…"

"Promise me, Drake. Please."

He nods. "I promise."

"Good." She leans in and kisses him on the cheek, then runs her thumb over the spot like she's wiping away her lipstick. "Do me a favor," she says, smiling a little as she pulls away.

"What?"

"Shave the beard."

He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Then he runs his left hand over his face. "What? You don't like it?"

"I want to see my son, not a lumberjack."

Drake smirks. "Have you ever actually seen a lumberjack, Mom?"

She laughs, but the sound is heavy. "I've missed you," she says.

Her words hit too close to home so he plays it off. "You won't be saying that a year from now when I'm sleeping 'til noon on your couch every day." The words are meant as a joke, but after he's said them, he realizes they just may be nearer to the truth than they should be.

Audrey shakes her head, her smile fading. "Come over for dinner tomorrow," she says. "Both of you."

Drake shrugs. "We'll see."

After another touch on the cheek, Audrey finally leaves, and Drake is left standing in an apartment that's both glaringly empty and oppressively crowded all at once.

He's sitting on the pull-out bed, watching television in the dark, when Megan emerges from her room. She's changed into her pajamas and her hair is clipped in a big messy mass behind her head, the tips fanning out like a halo.

"You're right," he says by way of a greeting. "This bed is uncomfortable." He squirms a little to demonstrate his discomfort. "The crossbar is making my ass numb."

"I told you," she says, leaning against the hallway entrance.

"Josh said it was comfortable."

"Josh's sleep number is 95. He would like it." She walks over to the side of the bed and looks down at him. "Scoot over, boob."

Drake grins. " 'Boob'? That's a relief. I was starting to think you didn't love me anymore."

She smirks, then climbs in beside him when he moves over. "It just sorta came out. Old habits, you know. Don't read too much into it." She tucks her feet beneath the blanket and pulls it up to her waist, turning her eyes to the TV. After a moment, she asks, "What are you watching?"

Drake shrugs. "Celebrity Mud Wrestling." He feels Megan's eyes on him and grudgingly turns to meet them. "What?"

"Nothing." She turns her eyes back to the screen.

"There was nothing else on," he says.

"Uh-huh."

"Besides," he says, feeling a smile creep up his face, "women in bikinis covered in mud? You ca–"

"Wait," Megan says, cutting him off and leaning forward a little. "Isn't that…?" She points to the screen.

Drake laughs. "Yup."

She looks at him, eyes wide. "Didn't you used to date her?"

He shrugs. "I don't think 'date' is really the right word."

"No doubt," she says, slowly shaking her head. "Why is it that when a man sleeps around he's considered a stud but if a woman does it, she's a slut?"

"I don't know. Just lucky, I guess." He tries to duck when she lifts her arm, but she manages to flick him anyway. "Ow," he says, laughing and rubbing his ear.

"How many women have you slept with?"

He looks at her in the blue glow of the television. She looks so earnest, like the answer really means a lot to her. But it feels weird talking like this with his little sister. Okay, so she's a grown woman. But still. "I'm not answering that."

Her eyes hold his steadily. "Do you even know?"

"Megan," he says, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He takes a breath then noisily pushes it out through his nose. "Fuck. I don't know. More than ten but less than a thousand."

"Did any of them ever mean anything to you?" Her voice has an edge of anger to it now that wasn't there before.

He picks up the remote and presses MUTE, then sets it down and looks at her. She's still looking back at him expectantly and her breathing has quickened, her chest rising and falling with each breath. "Megan…"

"Please," she says, her voice softer. "Just tell me. Honestly."

He presses his lips together into a thin line and looks down at his hands. "Yeah," he finally says. He lifts his head and looks at the TV, not really seeing it. Instead, he sees a flash of a face that's been plaguing his thoughts more and more of late. "Charlotte." He turns to look at Megan. "She was my first."

Megan nods, then says, "But all the others since then. Not one of them meant anything to you?"

"I didn't love them if that's what you're asking." He's got the strangest feeling she wants to tell him something, but he's afraid to ask.

"So it was just sex." Her mouth twists as she says the words, like they're bitter.

"I guess."

"You guess? That's nice," she hisses and he sees a flash of the old Megan in her eyes. She sits up, pushing the blankets off her legs like she's going to get up. But she doesn't. Instead she seems to deflate in an instant, slumping against the back of the sofa and pressing her hands to her eyes.

Drake looks at her, an ominous feeling creeping up his skin. "Megan, what's this all about?"

She shakes her head behind her hands, then wipes at her cheeks. "So it is possible, then," she finally says.

"What is?"

She looks at him, her dark eyes glistening. "Sex without love."

Drake wants to laugh, but the sheer desperation of the words stops him. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off.

"I've only slept with three guys, Drake. Three. And I loved all of them. Or thought I did at the time. I mean, I know it sounds naïve, but I think the two should go together. Don't you?" Then she quickly answers her own question, her voice hard. "No, of course you don't."

Her judgment makes him angry. "Fuck you," he says, standing up. He instantly regrets the words, but he's already said them. He can't take them back now. Besides, there's more he wants to say. "So you've been in love three times in your life. Good for you. We all can't be so goddamn lucky. Sex without love? It happens all the time. And if you think it doesn't, then grow the fuck up already." He laughs bitterly. "Hell, if I'd waited until I was in love, I'd still be a goddamn virgin."

She's on her knees now, her dark eyes flashing defiantly at him. "So, this Charlotte you mentioned. You didn't love her, then. Not even a little."

Her words throw him for a second and he wonders briefly why he's even arguing with her. The small part of his rational mind that's still functioning is telling him to stop this now; she doesn't need this. But the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I was eighteen, for Christ's sake. I didn't know what love was."

"So you were just so eager to rid yourself of your pesky virginity that you bedded the first girl who opened her legs to you? Is that it? I'm surprised it took you that long, frankly, the way girls were always throwing themselves at you. Charlotte must've been an exceptional specimen. Grade A Prime." Megan's hands are balled into fists at her sides.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Drake says through his teeth. There's a sudden ache in his chest that nearly knocks the breath out of him.

"Don't I?" Megan spits, the look of superiority that Drake's always hated adorning her face. But the closer he looks, the more fragile it seems, like it'll crumble at any second. "You've lived your whole life without commitment, Drake. You don't know what it's like to be a part of someone else. Losing your virginity to someone isn't quite the same as creating a life with them." Her voice quavers on the last few words, dwindling to nearly nothing.

Now's his chance to tell her, but he doesn't. His anger drains away, leaving him feeling exhausted. "I'm sorry," he says and knows it's not enough. It'll never be enough.

Megan sinks down onto her heels and stares down at the twisted mass of blankets. Drake stares at her in silence. Finally she says, "He accused me of cheating on him."

Drake suddenly feels cold. "What?"

Megan looks at him, tear tracks glistening in the light of the TV. "Mark. He said the baby wasn't his. Said he always used protection and that it wasn't possible. Said it must be someone else's. I…I tried to tell him. But he wouldn't believe me." She's crying now, her face buried in her hands.

"Jesus Christ," Drake says, a current of hatred surging beneath his skin with such force it makes his knees weak. He sinks down onto the bed.

"I still love him," she says beside him. "I wish I didn't."

Drake turns his head, finds her staring back at him. He reaches over, touches her knee. "I know."

She hugs him then, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if her life depended on it.

He finds her in the nursery.

"Megan." She's sitting on the floor, cradling a stuffed yellow duck in her lap.

His voice startles her and she looks up at him. Her eyes look hollow, but they're dry and hold his gaze unblinkingly. "I couldn't sleep," she says.

Drake leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "What about those pills the doctor gave you?" he asks gently.

She shakes her head. "I don't want them," she says. "I want to feel it."

A moment passes. "Can I have them, then?" He's only half-joking.

Her eyes appraise him, but she doesn't answer. "I really wanted to be a mom," she finally says. "I never thought I wanted kids, but then when I got pregnant…" She looks around the room, then refocuses her eyes on Drake. "I painted this room myself."

Drake smiles a little, scanning the room. "I like it," he says. "If this was my room, I'd never want to grow up." He meets her eyes again.

She smirks at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Sometimes you make it too easy," she says.

He smiles at her, then shrugs. "Well, goodnight," he says, turning from the door.

"Stay."

He stops and turns back around. She pats the floor beside her. "Pull up a stuffed animal and have a seat," she says.

He debates it for a second, then walks into the room. Plucking a plushy green frog off the rocking chair, he plops down on the floor beside his sister, crossing his legs Indian-style.

"That's Mr. Frog," she says, pointing to the stuffed animal in Drake's lap. "This," she says, holding up the duck, "is Mr. Duck."

"How very original."

"Says the guy who named all his goldfish 'Fish'," she says, nudging him.

He laughs. "There was less confusion that way."

"For you or the fish?"

They sit in companionable silence, each apparently lost in their own thoughts. Drake's absently twisting one of Mr. Frog's back legs when Megan's words nearly cause him to tear it completely off.

"The funeral's on Wednesday."

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