Author's Notes: I do not own Drake & Josh, am making no profit, and no copyright infringement is intended. All comments/constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!
She hates him. He knows.
But he doesn't know why and she plans to keep it that way. Because no one can ever know that Alice Hafer, respected school teacher and winner of three consecutive Teacher of the Year awards, doesn't actually hate Drake Parker.
She hates herself for the thoughts she has about him. The wrong, impure, and downright morally unethical thoughts that race within the cage of her mind when she passes out homework assignments and he rolls his eyes at her in bored defiance. She wants to scream and lecture him on the importance of doing well for his future but it would never erase the smirk that he gives, the one that rattles something animalistic inside her.
She watches Drake at his desk for the fourth detention in a row just this week alone. She's assigned him some fluff essay to write on why it wasn't acceptable to leave frogs in her desk drawers (that had certainly given her quite a scare this morning). She was supposed to be grading papers, but the sound of her red pen tapping on the surface of her desk kept distracting her; she was growing frustrated anyway with things that she wasn't supposed to be thinking of in the first place. Like the way his pink tongue looked as it peeked out at the corner of his mouth while he was writing. Or the way Drake's fingers practically cradled the pencil as he wrote smoothly over the piece of notebook paper she'd given him.
Standing up, she smoothed out the wrinkles of her black slacks and walked to the back of the room and pretended to re-organize the folders on the table against the wall. It calmed her, trying to get a sense of balance and control over the bewildering confusion in her head. But when she turned her around, her eyes immediately gravitated toward his lanky figure that was hunched over in the uncomfortable desk, and sighed.
There was a fantasy she'd been entertaining in her head for a few months now; it had been disconcerting at first, but it was just a daydream she needed to get through the day and maybe sometimes through the night too. Because let's face it, she could only handle so many of his smart mouth comments toward herself and his knowing, flirtatious grins toward his female classmates without wanting to do something about it.
And she wanted to take action, but common sense sliced through sharply as it always did. She thinks about his fingers buried in her short blonde bob instead of scratching at the back of his neck like they are now when he lets out a stressed sounding sigh. Those fingers had strummed out many songs at school functions Drake and his band had performed at; she imagined his hand now, sliding over her skin and playing her like his beloved guitar while her breathing would find a sort of shallow rhythm they could continue their sinful dance to.
Drake's pencil flew into the air unexpectedly and landed by the heel of her black pump. Bending over, she picked it up and carried it to him as she weaved her way down the aisle of the desks. The look of boredom was evident on his face, but he mumbled out a thanks when she handed it to him.
"Drake?"
"Yes ma'am?"
She paused and allowed the fleeting thought of his voice sounding lower while breathing the words hotly against her ear. Yes ma'am. It disappears when she remembers where she is and how she's not supposed to be enjoying the way he's looking up at her or thinking about running her own hands over his freckles, scattered and clustered as they are.
"I hate you."
It's an impossible argument that he never wins and had stopped making sense of a long time ago. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he answers with a dutiful, "I know."
FIN.