Ozzy sauntered down the narrow, dusty corridors, bobbing his head from side to side to the beat of the music from his headphones. He moved slowly, confidently, seemingly not at all nervous by the inevitable, very public confrontation that awaited him.

Today was his first day as a freshman in college and he was on his way to his 9am lecture; introduction to BIO-I. Under the advice of his uncle, the Police Chief, he'd chosen to major in criminology, while minoring in biology and forensics, as this was apparently the best pathway to ensure a top career in the police department.

His long-time friend and roommate Drix, a second year biology major, had given him a precise, point-by-point breakdown of the do's and don'ts for his first year on the course, making the last few points especially clear: don't forget to bring a pen to Professor Roja's class, keep your mouth shut, and for Frank's sake, don't be late.

Ozzy glanced down at his watch and smirked when he saw the time. 9:15am.

It wasn't that he didn't care about his education, far from it.

Although he'd never been the best student, normally getting below average grades, he'd often spend the eve of every exam studying, downing shot after shot of adrenaline followed by two or three cups of coffee as he tried to cram all the information into his brain.

Despite his best efforts, he had a tendency to lose focus and drift off during class. Some teachers would sigh upon seeing the glassy look in his eye and simply continue with the class. Others would whack the table in front of him with their ruler and snap at him to pay attention. However, most of them either didn't notice his obvious struggles to stay focussed, or simply didn't care enough to do anything about it.

He'd fallen in and out of love with education throughout his youth; on the one hand, he cared deeply for his studies and wanted to serve Frank by becoming the best detective he could. He also felt an enormous amount of pride on the rare occasions that he did do well, sort of like a 'fuck you' to everyone who had ever called him either stupid, lazy or worthless.

However, on the other hand, his lack of self-discipline when it came to actually sitting down at his desk and studying, combined with his turbulent childhood and Frank's subpar public education system, meant that he never normally got higher than a passing grade.

This time would be different though, he'd promised himself that.

He had always dreamed of becoming a detective; of showing his birth parents that he wasn't a total screw up and that they had made a huge mistake in giving him up as a kid.

Although biology wasn't his favourite subject, he knew he needed at least some knowledge of germs and bacteria to be able to serve Frank well when he eventually did get the job of his dreams, and nothing would stand in the way of that goal.

Even so, he hated being told what to do, especially by an old, stuffy teacher who, now that Ozzy was an adult, had no real power over him. It didn't take away from the fact that he was extremely motivated to do well this time and get the best grades he possibly could, but not before showing his new biology professor who was really in charge around here.

This wasn't high school anymore. They couldn't threaten to send him to the principal's office, treat him like a stupid myelocyte or try to intimidate him with a phone call home. No, this time things would go his way.

He reached the lecture hall and slipped his headphones down so they were hanging around his neck. He pulled a piece of bubble gum out of his pocket, chucked it into his mouth and pushed on the door.

"Ah, mister Jones, I presume? So nice of you to join us."

Ozzy stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the professor standing behind the podium, feeling as if all the cytoplasm had suddenly drained from his face.

He was huge! Way taller than anyone Ozzy had ever seen before, with long, toned legs, wide shoulders and strong, sturdy arms. Despite his thick, lavish sweater and the classic professor's jacket that was loosely draped over his shoulders, Ozzy could see the curves and bulges of every muscle in his arms and chest.

Ozzy's gaze glided upwards; the professor's skin was dark red, taut and soft over his angular, perfectly symmetrical cheekbones. His eyes were deep set under heavy lids, fiery, and terrifyingly intense.

Ozzy stared at him for a moment, hypnotised by the unusual curves and undulations of his face; by the deep, ardent eyes staring back at him.

"Is there a problem?"

Ozzy blinked at him. Fuck. He quickly opened and closed his mouth as he tried to form a coherent sentence, gesticulating with his hands. "Y-you're the teacher?", he managed to say.

Professor Roja narrowed his eyes. "Well, I did introduce myself at the beginning of the class, but clearly you had more important things to do, like buying second-hand clothes that are two sizes too big or forgetting to brush your hair", he scoffed, looking Ozzy up and down.

He tilted his head to the side and waved his hand at him. "Now, stop pissing about and sit down", he said impatience starting to creep into his voice.

"B-but you're…", Ozzy stammered, pointing at him with a shaking hand.

The professor raised an eyebrow. "I ain't got time for this. Either spit it out or shut up and let me get on with my lecture."

"You're a… virus!", Ozzy managed to say, fighting to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"Very astute, mister Jones. I see Frank's in good hands with a savant like yourself around to protect him." He lowered his glasses and said in a low voice, "now, sit down."

Flustered, Ozzy simply nodded and headed to the stairs to go sit in one of the seats on the very top row, trying to get as far away from this virus as he possibly could. He'd almost reached the top when he heard the professor call him out again.

"Jones, why are you going all the way up there? You're wasting mine and everyone else's time. There's an empty seat right here at the front."

Ozzy spun around with a frown. "But I'm already halfway up the stairs! I coulda been in my seat by now if you hadn't opened your yap", he snapped back, violently gesturing towards the empty seat with both hands.

There was a collective gasp in the room, all eyes darting between both the men as Ozzy's insolence continued to echo around the hall.

The professor didn't respond and simply narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to bore a hole into Ozzy's head. Ozzy pouted and trudged back down the stairs, ensuring to make each step as slow as possible while glaring daggers back at him.

He threw his rucksack on the floor under his chair and slumped himself down, a sullen expression on his face, purposefully chewing his bubblegum as obnoxiously loud as possible. He sank lower in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling up at Professor Roja for the remainder of the class.

After the longest two hours of Ozzy's life, the bell finally rang. He tilted his head back and exhaled all of the anxious energy that had been building within him since the start of the class, before quickly grabbing his rucksack and darting for the door.

"Mister Jones? Could you come here for a moment? I'd like to have a word witcha."

Oh fuck. The professor's tone was different now, darker and more menacing. It was laced with almost mocking disdain, and Ozzy noticed that his southern drawl had got slightly stronger.

He suddenly felt a rising panic in his throat, watching as all the students quickly filed out of the hall, terrified of what might happen if they didn't get out fast enough.

He hung his head, before steeling himself and slowly turning around, drifting his eyes up to glower at his professor. He knew it was probably a stupid idea to continue this display of impudence towards a man twice his size, but his ego had well and truly taken over by now, and he didn't want to show any sign of weakness to this virus.

"What?", he spat, his voice dripping in animosity.

The professor slowly wandered over to him and stooped down to his level, his hands behind his back. "Y'know Jones, I always take the liberty of reading each of my new students' files before the academic year starts. That way I know what makes each and every one of ya tick."

Ozzy scrunched up his face. What a fuckin' creep.

"It's my understanding that you wish to become a detective someday, is that right?"

Ozzy rolled his eyes and looked down at his feet. "Yeah, and what's it to you?", he mumbled.

"So you need to pass this class, ain't that so?"

Ozzy trailed his eyes up to meet Professor Roja's, before giving a small nod.

The professor leaned in closer and said in a low voice, "you're one in over seventy trillion cells in this body. You are not important to me in the slightest, whereas I am the difference between you getting your dream job or ending up as a fucking cleaner in the spleen."

Ozzy flinched at that, before clenching his teeth and readying himself to hurl insults at the professor, but he was cut off as he felt a claw be pressed to his cheek.

"I will not stand for insolent, spoiled brats who don't give a fuck about their education, and I will not be disrespected like that ever again." The professor slowly dragged his claw across his cheek, earning a shudder. He tutted and said in a low, almost taunting voice, "I assume ya know how to write, Jones?"

Ozzy frowned. "Of course I fucki-", he started, before he felt the claw dig into his cheek. He winced and tensed his hands into fists, swallowing his pride for once. "Yes… sir", he mumbled, looking down at the ground.

"Good. I want an apology letter on my desk by tonight, signed and dated." He trailed his claw down and placed it under Ozzy's chin, forcing him to tilt his head back to look up at him again. "If you ever display that type of behaviour towards me again, I'll make ya life so incredibly, unbearably difficult, you'll wish that you were never born. Do I make myself clear?"

Ozzy nodded quickly. The professor smiled and stood back up to his full height, before gesturing with his head for Ozzy to leave his lecture hall. "Now get outta my sight."

He didn't have to tell him twice.

Ozzy spun around and scurried away, not slowing down until he had reached the end of the corridor. He darted round the corner and pressed his back against the wall, shutting his eyes and exhaling heavily.

"So that's Professor Roja."


Ozzy fumbled the keys in his hands as he tried to unlock the door to his dorm room, his shoulders shaking with rage. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down, before managing to slot the key in and opening the door. He tore his jacket off, threw it on the back of his desk chair and slumped down with his arms crossed. He swung his feet up and slammed them down onto the desk, causing a few flakes of mud and dust to fall from his trainers.

Drix wouldn't be pleased, but right now Ozzy didn't give a shit. After the morning he'd had, a lecture from Drix seemed like a fucking walk in the park.

He glanced at the clock; Drix wouldn't be home for another 12 minutes. He always went for a run on Mondays, returning home at precisely 11:34.

This would give Ozzy enough time to look up some information on this alleged professor. He slipped out into the hall and picked up the communal phone, before dialling the usual sequence of numbers.

The line rang a few times, before he heard the familiar, nasal tones of the operator. "Brain Memory Library, how can I help you?"

This service was normally reserved for cops only, but having the Police Chief as your uncle had its perks.

"Yo, you got any information on a virus called Roja? He's a professor here at Cornea University."

"Stand by, I'll check, but we're really all about sports statistics here."

There was a brief moment of silence, before the operator said, "sorry, sir, I'm not at liberty to share that information. You have a nice day now."

"Wha-? Wait, what ab-", Ozzy started, but she hung up on him before he could finish. He scowled and slammed the receiver back into its cradle. "Well that's fuckin' peachy", he hissed.

He spun around and stormed back over to his dorm room, muttering under his breath, "looks like I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands."

He threw himself onto Drix's perfectly made bed and stared up at the ceiling. Not at liberty to share that information… What does that even mean?

He narrowed his eyes as he thought about it. Nothing was adding up here. Why the fuck would they hire a virus? And why would a virus even want to be a teacher in the first place?

He raised his hand in front of his face, watching how the light streamed through his fingers as he wiggled them about. There's gotta be more to this. I need more info… I need a busy-body, a gossip, someone who knows everything about everyone… I need Drips!

Just then, at precisely 11:34, Ozzy heard the door open again.

"Ozzy! Get off my bed, you're going to crinkle the sheets! I just ironed them this morning!"

"Drips!", Ozzy yelled as he leapt off the bed and charged over to him, grabbing him by the wrist and attempting to drag him over to the desk. "Man, am I glad to see you! You're exactly the know-it-all shit-stirrer I was lookin' for! I need ya help, bud!"

"Jones! What on Earth has gotten into you?", Drix said as he pulled his wrist out of Ozzy's grasp, before straightening out his running shorts and brushing some non-existent dust off his shoulder. He stilled, before looking Ozzy in the eye. "Shit-stirrer? Whatever do you mean by that? You know I actively avoid going anywhere near Frank's bowels."

Ozzy threw his hands in the air and started babbling at lightning speed, "ya gotta tell me everythin' you know about that biology professor! Stat! I need names, dates, deets!"

Drix blinked at Ozzy for a few seconds, before rolling his eyes. "Ozzy, I know you love to play detective, but I can't right now. I need to take a…", he looked down at his watch, "nine minute shower, because at 11:47 sharp I've got to start studying."

"This isn't a game, Drips! This is a matter of national security! Of life and death! You always know everybody's business, ya gotta tell me every tiny piece of information you've got on this Professor Roja, it's urgent!"

"Oh of course, today was your first biology class! How did it go?"

Ozzy put on a fake smile. "Oh yeah, it went fucking fantastic! He humiliated me in front of the whole class and then threatened my life!" He frowned and hissed, "thanks for the heads up about him being a fuckin' virus by the way!"

Drix looked puzzled. "But I did tell you."

"I think I woulda remembered you sayin' there was a fuckin' virus roaming around the college grounds!"

Drix frowned and went over to his desk to grab his notes. He scanned over them and nodded. "Here we go, I did tell you! Item 24, Professor Roja is a virus, be very wary of his claw." He lowered the notepad to look at Ozzy and narrowed his eyes. "You didn't listen to a word I said, did you?"

Ozzy huffed. "Fine, whatever! That doesn't matter, anyway. How the hell is he allowed to teach here!?"

Drix sighed and left the notepad on his desk. He looked over his shoulder, before saying in a hushed voice, "well, I'm not one to gossip, but rumour has it that he tried to infect this body a few years ago, but he got caught. Then, instead of getting flushed out, he became a professor as his punishment, offering insight into how to beat other viruses."

"What? That's so fuckin' dangerous! What if he decides to try and kill Frank again? Or he goes totally loco one day and stabs a student with his claw thing?!"

"Well, he's already been here for a few years now without a single reported incident…"

"Yeah, probably because he kills you before you can file a complaint!"

Drix ignored that comment and continued, "he is a very good teacher. I found his virology class very inspiring last year. What's more, he has never had a student get less than a B+."

"Yeah, that's because everyone's fuckin' terrified of him! Of course you're gonna do all the work and make sure you pass if you've got a mass murderer as a teacher!"

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down with a frown. "Nah Drix, none of this makes any sense. Why doesn't he try and escape? With that nasty claw of his and the sheer fuckin' size of him it'd be a piece of piss."

"Again, it's only hearsay, but apparently he gets paid a lot. And I mean a lot."

"Oh, great, so all my taxes are goin' to feedin' and clothin' a fuckin' pathogen?! That's rich!"

Drix cocked his head. "You don't pay taxes."

Ozzy threw his arms in the air and snapped back, "oh, it was just a figure of speech!", before slumping down on his bed with a sigh. He looked down at his lap and started playing with his fingers, before saying quietly, "he hates me, Drips… ain't no way i'm passin' his class now."

Drix went to sit next to him and patted his knee. "Well, how about you try and start fresh with him?"

Ozzy raised his head to look at Drix with big, sad eyes. "How?"

"Well, first of all, make sure to get to every class on time, early even..."

"But the class starts at 9am!"

Drix rolled his eyes and continued, "secondly, don't forget your pen, or something to write on. Make sure to take copious notes of everything he says, he secretly loves that."

"Yeah I bet he does, fuckin' egomaniac", Ozzy mumbled.

"Jones, are you even listening?"

Ozzy leaned his head on Drix's shoulder and nodded. "Sorry, yeah. Go on."

"Thank you. Thirdly, I think it would help you to read the brief before each class so you know what the lesson will be about. That way, you will be able to come up with insightful questions to ask him. Plus, it'll help you understand the syllabus better."

Ozzy's eyes opened wide. "Drips, that's brilliant! You're a fuckin' genius!" He leapt off the bed, a big grin spreading across his face. "I'm gonna learn the subject material before he even has the chance to teach it! The slightest mispronunciation on his part, the tiniest mistake, and I will pounce!"

"I-I… That's not quite what I had in min-"

"I'm gonna be the most insufferable, pedantic, intellectual jackass he's ever had the misfortune to teach!"

Drix lifted a finger. "Uh, Jones…?"

"I can't wait to wipe that smug smile off his stupid, spiky face", Ozzy uttered as he rubbed his hands together.

"Jones, you seem to be focussing on the wrong thing here. This is all about getting a good grade, right?"

Ozzy blinked, before standing up straight and waving his hand in front of Drix's face. "Yeah yeah, of course." He sat down at his desk, cracked his knuckles and reached for his unopened biology textbook. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a hot date with some...", he squinted as he tried to read the title of the first chapter, "pro-kar-i-ow-tees."

"Prokaryotes", Drix corrected as he headed into the bathroom to take a 2 and a half minute shower.

Ozzy waved his hand dispassionately and grabbed a pen to start taking notes. He grinned and laughed quietly to himself. "Professor Roja, I hope you're ready for me. It's time you got a taste of your own medicine, baby."


Notes: Oh boy, I promised myself no more fics for a while, but here we go again! The ozzsession™ is real, my friends.

I'm sure no one asked for this AU, but the idea of Ozzy as a student just makes me so happy! And Thrax as a sexy professor, well that just speaks for itself.

Anyone who's read my other OJ fics can probably tell by now that I love writing a spicy, sassy Ozzy, and that I LOVE going into great detail when describing Thrax's appearance, hehe.

The idea of Drix going for a 'run' is hilarious to me- my man's just floating along really fast. Anyway, I'll stop rambling! Thanks for reading so far!

Comments are very much appreciated btw! :D