Chapter Text
Drew’s friendship with Hal can be dated back to October of his second year at Sidlesmith, and a truly horrific group project.
More accurately, it can be dated back to the day they turned in the project, to Hal turning to Drew at the end of class and saying, “Austen’s has half price wings on Wednesdays. Want to go get weeknight drunk and celebrate never having to work with those people ever again?”
Drew was surprised, mostly because up until that point he’d assumed he was included in the list of people Hal would be drinking to forget. She’d certainly spent enough time over the past two weeks scowling in his direction — it just hadn’t occurred that maybe she’d been scowling with him rather than at him.
Either way, he certainly hadn’t made enough friends at school that he was willing to pass up the invitation. Nor was he going to argue when, stumbling back dorm-ward, Hal had declared, “That was fun. We should do it again.”
And so Wing Wednesday was born. Drew, introverted by nature, could have done without the crowd that packed into the campus pub to gorge on cheap chicken, but his friendship with Hal was important enough to him that Drew made it a policy not to cancel on their biweekly tradition without a very good reason.
Given the downright evil gleam in Hal’s eyes now, he’s starting to regret that policy.
“So… you like him, right?”
“What?”
“Harrison.”
“I think he’s a good co-host, sure,” Drew says, turning his attention to his drink. Because the wing sauce is hot and it’s making him thirsty, of course. Not because he’s avoiding Hal’s eyes.
The unimpressed stare comes through loud and clear anyway, Hal taking on her special “I-can’t-believe-you’re-going-to-make-me-spell-this-out-but-of-course-you-are-because-you’re-Drew-and-for-someone-so-insightful-you-can-be-remarkably-dense” tone. (Which, admittedly, would be a lot to read into a tone of voice, except for the fact that Hal has said those exact words to him on more than one occasion.)
“Drew. What I mean is, you’re obviously hopelessly into him.”
Drew nearly chokes on his drink. “What?” he coughs.
“Don’t give me that,” Hall scoffs. “Even your listeners can tell, and they don’t spend all show watching you make heart eyes in Harrison’s direction. Hell, the only reason I didn’t invite him along tonight is so I could make you dish about it. So spill.”
Hal is right, of course. (Hal is frequently right, damn her.) Drew sighs, examining the drink in his hands with all the misery of a man condemned.
“Hal, what do I do?”
Hal just cackles.
Drew doesn’t see what’s so amusing about his situation. “You’re a bad friend, you know that?”
Hal throws her head back and laughs harder at that, the unholy glee he’d seen in her eyes earlier pouring out of her now. Even in the noise of the busy pub, they’re starting to get stares.
Drew waits in indignant silence as Hal takes pity and tries to rein in her mirth, cackles turning to wheezing chuckles that become choked coughs. After what feels to Drew like a small eternity, but is probably closer to thirty seconds, she wipes her eyes and looks at him, smile softening to something fond and exasperated.
“I actually heard some pretty good advice on a text-in show recently. One of the hosts said that if you like someone, it’s best to be honest and them know how you feel.”
“You know,” says Drew philosophically, “I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t point that out.”
That sets Hal off again, but at least she buys Drew his next drink to make up for it.