Summary: A late-night round of telephone tag, and about twenty-three people he's never met. Nope, it's still not his lucky day. Drake/Wendy.
Drake muttered a soft curse as he was jolted from a blissful slumber, filled with dreams in which Lady Luck had played a starring role, assuring him that she would be around for a while this time.
Funny that Lady Luck had not only been clad in little more than a profusion of sequins, but had also borne a strong resemblance to the girl curled up next to him, soft pale hair spilling over his arm.
The same girl who was going to wake up really grumpy if the shrilly ringing phone that had woken him up managed to cut into her well-deserved sleep, too.
With that, Drake scrambled out of bed, pushing Wendy carefully off his shoulder and settling her on the other pillow.
Biting back a shout of pain as his toe connected roughly with something solid and heavy, he reflected in annoyance that he really needed to spend more time in this sickeningly girly little bedroom – he clearly didn't know it as well as he thought he did.
This idea, as well as the thought that the owner had better come with the room, cheered him up decidedly as he groped for the dresser, where he distinctly recalled leaving his phone, watch, and wallet last night.
His fingers closed around something small and noisy.
"Drake Anderson," he announced grumpily after a quick push of a button.
There was a distinctly soggy-sounding silence on the other end of the line.
"Em…have I gotten a wrong number?" a soft feminine voice asked, shaking slightly and punctuated by sniffles.
Drake cursed inwardly and leaned against the dresser as the memory of Wendy's phone directly next to his on the dresser floated through his mind.
"I don't know," he shrugged, reflecting sourly that he would be far happier as a hermit. They probably didn't have to deal with strange crying women at three in the morning. "Who were you looking for?"
"My friend Wendy," the young woman replied. "I really need to talk to someone. My boyfriend's gone on holiday with some big-boobed tart where he works, and her husband's kidnapped my cat!"
"Look, Wendy's asleep right now, and—"
"Can you wake her up?" the girl pleaded.
"—and she hasn't been sleeping too well lately. She's had a long week, and she's exhausted. Why don't you call her tomorrow? Can I give her your name and number?"
"I-it's Evie. And she's already got my number. But—"
"Great. Good night, Evie."
With that, he flicked the phone off before his conscience had time to talk him into trying to help this girl through her problems himself.
Grumbling as heavily as he could without waking up the girl in the bed, who had remained rather miraculously asleep throughout this exchange, he climbed back under the covers and wrapped one arm over her waist. He rested his chin against her hair and relaxed back into the warm haven that was a squishy mattress and a good supply of blankets and pillows.
Just as he felt his eyes begin to slide shut beneath the irresistible spell of sleep, another shrill noise cut through the haze surrounding his brain and yanked him back to reality.
"Damn it!" he muttered, on his feet again in an instant.
Was that his phone, or hers again? The ring tone sounded like his.
Another fifteen seconds and a perilous journey across the darkened room later, he held the phone to his ear and announced his name to the mysterious caller.
"Eh…is Wendy there?" a young man's voice asked hesitantly, before hastening to continue as though hearing Drake's eyebrow lift suspiciously in time with his gradually rising caveman instincts. "It's her brother, Mike."
He snuck a glance at the bed, where his hostess was happily snuggling her pillow, apparently still quite undisturbed by the apparent tendency of everyone she knew to keep ridiculous hours.
"Look, Mike, it's three in the morning. She's asleep right now."
He was greeted by a startled curse, and yanked the phone away from his ear, wincing at the young man's shout.
"Sorry, man; forgot about time zones. I'll ring her up again tomorrow."
"Good plan," Drake agreed grumpily. "See you."
Without waiting for a reply, he punched the end key, and stalked back to bed.
Before he could get in, though, the ring of a phone made its presence known yet again.
Now, that was definitely his ring tone.
"Drake Anderson," he greeted, his irritability rising just another notch higher.
"Yeah, hi there, I'm looking for Wendy," a cheerful female voice greeted loudly enough to make him wince again.
"Geez, you and everyone else tonight," he grumbled. "It's three in the morning! She's asleep! I'm not waking her up just to—"
"Right, Evie told me about you," the girl announced slyly. "I'm Chrissie, by the way. Listen, my friend called a minute ago, and she told me that when she called Wendy earlier, some man told her to bugger off."
"So…why are you calling?"
"You couldn't 'investigate' tomorrow? Because I'm kind of tired, too."
"Oh, I'm done," Chrissie announced cheerfully, and then giggled. "And I'm really glad that Wendy's got someone nice who's looking after her. Give her a kiss from us!"
There was a click at the other end of the line, and then the dial tone. Drake stared, baffled, at the phone, reflecting that Wendy had bad luck with friends and wondering why all these weirdoes seemed to gravitate to the poor girl.
Well, hopefully the rest of them would be smart enough to be in bed instead of on the phone. Maybe that way, he could get some sleep.
This time, he managed to get only a few careful, inching steps away from the dresser before another shrill ring cut through the silence of the room.
"Alright, that's it," he said decisively, snatching up the phone and starting back to the bed.
He flipped on the bedside lamp after no small amount of groping that nearly became disastrous when his arm almost swept it off the table. Squinting in the sudden warm, golden, and far too bright light cast by the coloured glass lampshade, he shook Wendy's shoulder gently.
"Hey," he greeted softly as she sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes, blinking up at him curiously. "Your phone's ringing.
"Thanks," she said with a small, sleepy smile, taking the phone from him and flipping it on. "Hello?" A pause. "Yes, it's me." Another pause, during which she instinctively dragged the blankets up higher around her, as though this mysterious caller had any way of getting the same free show that he had been enjoying. "Oh, hello, Mr. Joker!"
He watched with a slightly bewildered laugh as her eyes quickly reached and surpassed the size of saucers, and her cheeks grew brightly warm and pink.
"Em, I think you did, Sir." A pause, during which her expression relaxed somewhat. "Right; understood." Another pause. "Mr. Joker! That's mean!" A few seconds. "It just did, and it's not really important, is it?" Another pause, and she laughed. "Well, I'm glad to help, Sir." A few more seconds passed. "Right. I'll be there soon, then."
She turned to Drake and offered the phone.
"It's for you," she informed him, cheeks still flushed and eyes sparkling with slightly embarrassed mirth. "And Mr. Joker says he wants your explanation as to why I'm answering your phone in the middle of the night."
End Notes: Hee! Okay, it was cute to me. :D