TITLE: Scenes from an Unplanned Life
SPOILERS: Anything from the series is fair game here.
DISCLAIMER: I neither own nor claim to own anything relating to the show Drake & Josh. The powers that be from Nickelodeon and Schneider's Bakery own all. I am not making a profit except for the satisfaction of being able to play with words for a little while.

A/N: This was a short chapter I wrote a long time ago and had never posted. I wasn't going to, but I decided I needed to break up the endless flow of angst a little bit. It's a little naughty (which I don't write too often, so please keep that in mind!), but not too explicit. I think there are only one or two bad words. :o)

Chapter 9: Interruptus

POV: Drake, 23 years old

He was hard and she was soft in all the right places. Her name was Agnes – that was one of the things that had caught his attention in the first place. It wasn't a name he heard everyday. She was named after her great-grandmother, she had told him.

She moaned into his mouth and slid her knee between his legs, eliciting a groan from him. He broke the kiss, grinding his teeth together, trying to hold back. He didn't want to rush it and he was already close. They still had their clothes on, for Christ's sake.

It had been a while and he was a little out of practice.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her breath warm against his neck, each breath pushing her breasts against his chest.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely. He looked at her – red hair the color of new pennies framed a heart-shaped face with hazel eyes and soft lips that were now a little swollen. God, he wanted her.

She grinned lasciviously. "Then let's get back to business," she said, her fingers finding his belt. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, resting his weight against his hands that were propped against the door on either side of her head.

He barely heard the zipper over the pounding of his heart inside his skull, but his eyes flew open at her touch. The word "Jesus" was carried out of his mouth on a sharp expulsion of breath.

"You like that, don't you?" Her voice was low and husky.

Drake couldn't respond.

She pushed him back towards the bed and he fell onto it when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He laid there looking up at her, watching as she pushed her jeans down over her hips in what seemed like slow motion, revealing barely there lavender panties. Her blouse followed, revealing a matching bra.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat as she positioned herself over him, slithering up his body. She pressed her lips to his ear. "Ready for the ride of your life?" she asked, her breath moist against his ear. She ground her pelvis against his and he gritted his teeth again. If they didn't hurry it up, the ride would be over before it began.

"Agnes –" he managed.

"Shhh," she purred against his neck. "No talking."

He couldn't even if he tried, so when she asked him where the condoms were, he just pointed in the direction of the nightstand. She retrieved the prophylactic and placed it between her teeth. Turning her attention to his jeans, she tugged them and his boxers down over his hips, smiling at his obvious arousal.

Gripping handfuls of blanket in his fists, he had the thought that he had never seen anything sexier in his life than this woman staring down at him with just the corner of a condom wrapper between her perfect teeth. His eyes rolled back as she tore open the wrapper.

"Dad?"

Drake's eyes shot open and he jerked his head up, propping himself up on his elbows. He heard the doorknob being jiggled. Thank god he thought to lock the door. Agnes hovered over him, frozen.

"Dad! Open the door!" Jack's small voice sounded urgent.

Drake placed his hands on Agnes' hips, guiding her off him as he sat up. Even in the dim light of the single lamp burning on the dresser, he could see the annoyance on her face. "I thought you said he wouldn't be here!" she hissed under her breath, glaring at him.

"He's not supposed to be," Drake whispered, sliding off the bed and tucking himself carefully back into his jeans. He had dropped the boy off at Mrs. Delfino's earlier that evening. The older woman had just smiled and pointedly said, "Be careful," as she rested her hand meaningfully on Jack's head.

"Da-ad!"

"Hold that thought," he said hastily, pointing at her as he walked to the door. Turning the lock on the knob, he opened the door, blocking the opening with his body so the boy wouldn't come charging in. He stepped into the hallway, forcing the kid back a step, closing the door behind him. "Jack, why aren't you upstairs with Mrs. Delfino?" he asked calmly.

"I don't feel good," he said.

"What's the matter?" he asked the boy.

"My throat hurts," said Jack.

Drake sighed. "Come on," he said, turning to walk down the hall towards the bathroom, Jack following closely behind. He turned on the light, reached into the drawer to the right of the sink for the penlight he kept there, and knelt in front of the boy. "Stick out your tongue," he commanded.

Jack complied, even adding a helpful, "Ahhhhh."

Shining the light into Jack's mouth, Drake inspected the back of his throat. It looked a little red, but not inflamed. He clicked the light off. "Okay."

The boy closed his mouth and looked at his dad, waiting.

"Go get the salt," Drake said.

Jack knew what that meant and he made a face. "But, Dad…" he protested.

"Jack, if you argue, it'll only make your throat worse," Drake replied, surprised at his own logic.

Jack closed his mouth and Drake could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, processing what Drake had just said. Silently, Jack exited the bathroom and disappeared from sight in the direction of the kitchen. Drake stood, filled the bathroom cup a third full with warm water and waited for him to return. He did so after a moment, eyes downcast, holding the salt shaker in his left hand. He held it out to his dad.

Drake shook a small quantity of salt into the cup and swirled it around. He held the cup out to Jack. "You know what to do," he said.

The boy took the cup in both hands and looked beseechingly up at Drake. "My throat doesn't really hurt that bad," he explained.

"Jack."

Heaving a defeated sigh, Jack tilted the cup to his lips, then tilted his head back, gargling. Drake counted to thirty in his head, then said, "Spit."

Jack walked over to the sink and stood on his tiptoes to spit the salt water out. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaced. "Yuck," he said.

"You'll thank me later," Drake said dryly. "Let's go." He started to walk out the door.

"Where we goin'?" Jack asked.

"You're going back to Mrs. Delfino's," Drake answered as he walked down the hall, thinking Jack was behind him.

"Why can't I just stay here?" asked the boy, who had stopped in the hallway outside the bathroom door. He had his arms crossed over his chest.

Drake closed his eyes before turning around. Crap. "Because," he began, then stopped. He tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms, too. "Does Mrs. Delfino even know you're here?"

Jack's defiance wilted a little. He lowered his head. "No," he said sheepishly. "She fell asleep."

"How'd you even know I was home?"

"I didn't. But when I opened the door, I saw your jacket on the floor. The one you were wearing earlier." He looked up at Drake out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he said.

Drake stifled a smile. "It's alright," he said. "I wasn't sleeping." He thought about Agnes and her lavender panties. She was probably pissed.

"I better go give Mrs. Delfino her keys back, huh?" Jack asked suddenly, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a set of keys.

"Jack," Drake said, exasperated. He hadn't even thought to ask Jack how he'd gotten in. Now he knew. He shook his head and took the keys. "Come on."

Five minutes later, Drake opened the door to his bedroom, an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry." He was prepared to duck in case she had a projectile aimed at his head. But she was simply sitting on his bed, her back against the wall, legs curled under her, skimming an old issue of Rolling Stone.

"Everything okay?" she asked calmly, not looking up. He thought her tone of voice was a little suspicious, but she hadn't gotten dressed and he took that as a good sign.

"Yeah," he said. He was getting aroused again, just looking at her. "He's back upstairs."

"Good," she said, flipping another page of the magazine nonchalantly. Then she suddenly tossed the magazine to the floor and uncurled her legs, patting the bed beside her. A salacious grin adorned her lips as she focused her feral gaze on him. "C'mere."

Drake grinned, peeling off his shirt and tossing it carelessly aside. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled onto the bed, hovering over her as he kissed her. He moaned involuntarily as her fingers snaked through his hair and she pressed against his mouth, increasing the heat.

His hand found her breast and he brushed his thumb across it, smiling at the physical response he elicited. Her fingers were on his fly, then through it as she pushed his jeans down over his hips and shifted onto her back beneath him. He lowered his lips to her neck and kissed across her collarbone as he pushed the strap of her bra off her shoulder. She arched beneath him and drew up one knee, pressing her pelvis against his, causing Drake to groan into her shoulder.

There was an insistent knock on the front door, muted though it was by the closed bedroom door. Drake froze, holding his breath.

"You've got to be kidding me," Agnes muttered under her breath.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Maybe they'll go away."

Another knock, louder this time, followed by a faint, "Dad?"

"For Christ's sake, what is it now?" she asked, sitting up and yanking her bra strap roughly back onto her shoulder.

"Be right back," he said wearily, standing up and pulling up his jeans. He picked up the first shirt he saw and pulled it over his head as he walked to the door.

"Whatever," he heard her say as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

Padding down the hall and across the living room, he slid back the deadbolts and opened the door. Mrs. Delfino stood there, holding Jack's hand. She had an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry to disturb you, honey," she said softly, "but Jack isn't feeling well. He's been complaining about a stomachache all night." She saw Drake's expression shift to Jack. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

Drake shook his head, looking back at her. "He just said his throat hurt."

She smiled sympathetically. "Well, he just threw up. I don't mind keeping him, you know that. But he really wants to go home. I should've called first," she added apologetically.

"It's fine," he said, kneeling down in front of his son. Jack looked back at him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Hey, don't sweat it. You couldn't help it," Drake said softly, giving the boy a small smile. "Why don't you let Mrs. Delfino take you to your room and I'll be there in a minute. Okay?"

Jack just nodded mutely. Drake stood and stepped aside to let them pass, running his fingers through the kid's hair as he passed and exchanging a look with Mrs. Delfino. "I'm sorry," she mouthed to him as she passed, gesturing with her dark eyes in the direction of the master bedroom. Drake just waved her off, following them to the back of the apartment.

When he entered his bedroom, he encountered an angry, half-naked woman. "What life-threatening emergency couldn't wait this time?" she spat at him before he could even speak.

A flash of anger shot through him. "What the hell's your problem? You knew I had a kid." She had seemed so sweet; what happened?

She looked at him angrily. "I thought he'd be gone. I thought you took care of it. Jesus Christ, can't you control your own kid?"

"He's not feeling well. What do you want me to do?" He felt himself losing his temper and he took a deep breath to calm his anger.

"Tell the babysitter to take care of it. Or tell him the truth. Tell him that Daddy wants to get laid and to stay out!" She actually seemed to snarl.

A sudden calm came over Drake and he stared at her in silence for a moment. "Or," he began, his voice low and even, "instead of telling him to stay out," he continued, bending to pick up her clothes from the floor, "I could tell you to get out," he finished, tossing her clothes at her.

She looked at him, her mouth hanging open slightly, her expression a cross between shock and indignation. "Excuse me?" She apparently was unaccustomed to being tossed aside.

"You heard me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." Her eyes flashed angrily as she grabbed at her clothes.

"Well, believe it." He met her glare with one of his own. If she thought he was going to blow off his own kid for a quick roll with her, she had another thing coming. He pointed in the general direction of Jack's room. "He lives here. You don't."

Finally, she stood up and got dressed, her movements rushed and choppy. She glared at him as she scooped up her shoes. "Don't even fuckin' think about asking me out again," she said between clenched teeth.

"Don't worry," he said, without regret. He heard the door slam as he walked across the hall into Jack's room.

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