After drying himself off from his particularly brisk shower, Drix pushed Ozzy's pile of textbooks to the side to make way for his own, before plopping himself down on the other desk chair.
Ozzy turned his head to look at him and grinned. "Ain't this the neatest? Me and you at college, studyin' together? It's like we're in a coming-of-age movie or somethin'! I'm the fun, lovable protagonist who's always gettin' into scrapes, and you're my nerdy, tight-laced best friend!"
Drix felt slightly offended by that remark and was about to protest, when Ozzy held up his fist in front of him and quietly added, "there's no one else I'd rather have by my side, bud."
Drix laughed and gave him a fist bump. "Only you could say something insulting and make it sound sweet. I'd prefer you to use the word 'studious' rather than 'nerdy', but yes, it is, as you put it, 'neat'."
They smiled at each other for a moment, before turning to face their respective textbooks.
As they studied, Drix couldn't help but glance over at Ozzy every now and then.
He'd never seen him be so fixated on something academia-related in his life, and it was almost shocking to watch him spend so much time poring over a single module without getting distracted.
He'd only ever seen this happen on the night before a massively important exam, during which Ozzy would hole up in his room and emerge the next morning, not having slept a wink.
He'd witnessed Ozzy get obsessed over things like this time and time again, and Drix had just accepted this as a part of his personality. He knew that once Ozzy had set his mind on something, there was no way of talking him out of it.
This time was different though.
This obsession could very well destroy Ozzy's chances of getting a good education and finally being able to make a life for himself. Drix loved Ozzy like a brother, so knew better than anyone just how annoying he could be. He feared that he would push Professor Roja too far and end up getting himself kicked off the course, or worse.
Drix had been around for the majority of Ozzy's turbulent life up until now, and had seen just how hard he had fought to get into college to try and make things better for himself.
If anyone deserved a win, it was Ozzy. Drix wondered if this new fixation was really just about that, and if all he needed was to get his own back on the professor for all the times his teachers had disrespected or overlooked him in the past. He hoped that once he had achieved that and got it out of his system, he'd then be able to drop this obsession and focus on his studies again.
Drix furrowed his brow as he watched Ozzy mumbling to himself, trying to get his mouth around all those long, complicated words.
It wasn't that Ozzy was stupid, far from it, he just had a different type of intelligence than most, a type that couldn't be measured by tests or exams.
Drix had noticed a spark of, dare he say it, genius in Ozzy many times before, especially when his uncle would go to him for help on difficult cases. He had a way of connecting unorganised pieces of information and seemingly random clues to eventually solve cases that had had all of Frank's top detectives scratching their heads for weeks.
Moreover, Drix had always secretly admired the way Ozzy somehow managed to predict how the criminals would react to certain situations, seemingly able to understand their way of thinking better than anyone else. He'd surely make a great detective someday, but maybe he just needed a little friendly help along the way…
Drix was suddenly snapped out of his train of thought as he heard Ozzy completely obliterate the pronunciation of 'lipopolysaccharide'. He shook his head and slid his chair closer to him.
"Pronounce that again," he said firmly.
Ozzy flicked his eyes up at him and grimaced with embarrassment. "Lee-poh-poly-sa-cher-id-ay..?", he said, a nervous smile spreading across his face.
"Ooh, you've almost got it! But be careful with that sound there. A double 'c' followed by a 'h' is pronounced like a 'k'. Okay repeat after me; Lai-pow-poh-lee-sa-ko-ride."
Ozzy narrowed his eyes and repeated it slowly, bobbing his head on every syllable.
"There you go! Now, do it again, but faster."
After three hours of aggressive note taking, punctilious perfecting of pronunciation, and two packs of flashcards, Ozzy threw his head back and let out a loud groan. "Okay okay okay, I think I've had enough for one day. My brain can only handle so much information about this Gram-positive-negative bullshit."
He pushed his chair back and slowly rose to his feet, cricking his neck from side to side. He went to stand behind Drix and put his arms over his shoulders, mumbling against his capsule, "thanks for all ya help, Drips. I think if I do one more study session like this, I'll be able to well and truly stick it to that professor on Thursday"
Drix turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "But that's not the only reason we're doing this, right? Ultimately it's to get you a good grade. Don't lose sight of that, Jones."
"Yeah yeah, that too." He stood back up and stretched his arms in the air. "Anyway, I'm starvin'! Let's go out for lunch, my treat!"
Ozzy dragged a reluctant Drix towards what he claimed to be the finest dining establishment on campus; Eye-hop. He pushed both doors open and waltzed in, greeting all the other customers with a wave and a cheesy grin as if he owned the place. He ordered for both he and Drix, ignoring Drix's comments about the stickiness of the floor and the vulgar décor, before grabbing the tray of food and carrying it over to a corner booth.
He plopped himself down and handed Drix his plate of pancakes, ignoring his disgruntled expression, and immediately shovelled a handful of fries into his mouth, making happy chewing noises as he ate.
"God…mmm… this shit's… flmmpf… so good. You can't tell me it ain't… mmmph… fuckin' amazing here, Drips."
"It's positively grotesque, Jones. I don't know how you can put that rubbish in your mouth, quite honestly", Drix mumbled, pushing the plate away from him. "Those fries are made up of nothing but trans fats and hydrogenated oils."
"And what would you prefer, caviar?", Ozzy retorted, putting on a posh English accent for the last word. "If you really think that some rottin' fish eggs are more delicious than those thick, fluffy, juicy pancakes in front of you then you truly have lost your mind, bud."
Ozzy finished his chips and pointed at Drix's plate with pleading eyes, trying to put on his most innocent smile. "Soooo… if you're not gonna eat that…?"
Drix shook his head and gestured for Ozzy to take the plate, grimacing as he watched him pick up a floppy, syrup covered pancake with his bare hands.
"At least use cutlery, for Frank's sake, you savage", Drix hissed as he placed a fork onto the side of the plate.
"God, you're always actin' like you're better than me. You're just like that Professor Roja." He lowered his voice and mumbled, "I bet he's never even stepped foot in a place like this."
"Can we please not start talking about him again?"
"I bet he has a mansion with butlers that make him anything he fuckin' wants at any time he pleases. Piece of shit."
"Ozzy…" Drix said, rolling his eyes.
"You know I'm right. He's a stuck-up, arrogant, hoity-toity, egotistical cun-"
"Jones!" Drix snapped, whacking him round the back of the head with the menu. "Watch your language, there are two little children sitting behind you!"
Ozzy shrugged and bit down on the pancake, before rolling his eyes shut and tilting his head back, letting some syrup roll down his chin. "Fuuuuuck, that's beautiful. Drips, ya gotta try this!" He held out a fork for Drix to take. "C'mon, dig in! Otherwise you're no better than that snobby virus."
Drix pushed the fork away and sighed as he watched Ozzy shove the rest of the pancake into his mouth. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "I don't want you to get fixated on this thing with Professor Roja, Jones."
Ozzy frowned and swallowed loudly. "I'm not!"
"Yes you are. You've got that mad glint in your eyes."
Ozzy just waved his hand dispassionately and took another big bite.
"I know what you're like. You'll make it your mission to get back at him to the point where it takes over your life and completely consumes you."
"Don't be so dramatic, you're talkin' like I'm obsessed with him or somethin'. I just reckon he needs to be taken down a peg, and you know I'm the best man for the job." He took a big swig of his coke, before slamming it down on the table and pointing at himself with both thumbs. "No one makes a mockery of Osmosis Jones!"
Drix rolled his eyes and sighed. "He's just a teacher, Ozzy. He doesn't wake up every day with the intention of making a mockery of his students."
"He threatened my life, Drips! But I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that. He is a fuckin' virus, after all", Ozzy spat, before noisily slurping up the rest of his coke.
"And what's so bad about that?"
"Wha-? A virus teaching in a college!? What's so bad about that? Why am I the only one who can see how fuckin' crazy that is?"
"You need to be more accepting, Ozzy. Some viruses actually help the body, you know?"
"Pfft. Nah, that's just some Not All Viruses propaganda shit that you've fallen for", Ozzy mumbled, before dragging his finger through the ketchup on his plate and sucking it off.
Drix ignored that comment and put his hand on Ozzy's shoulder to make him look into his eyes. "You'll end up abandoning everything else over this, I just know it. You'll stop studying, sleeping, going out, all over one stupid interaction. It's not worth it."
"It is worth it!"
"You always get so fixated on things. It's unhealthy." He sat back in his seat and scowled as he looked over Ozzy's shoulder. "Speaking of which, can we please leave this loathsome place? I think I just saw that cell over there spit on the floor."
Ozzy shoved the last pancake into his mouth and sucked the grease off his fingers. "Sure, yeah, I need to get back anyway and write that stupid apology letter."
Drix cocked his head. "But I thought you wanted to get, quote-unquote, revenge on the professor?"
"Exactly, Drix! But you see, if I write that letter, he'll think that everythin' is all hunky-dory, and then he'll lower his guard around me. That way, I can strike when he least expects it!"
"Strike? What are you going to do, run at him head first?"
"Nah, somethin' much more sophisticated than that, man."
"Jones. He may be a teacher, but he's still a virus, as you keep pointing out. Be careful not to provoke him too much."
"Ah-hah! See! You just admitted it! He's a danger to us all, Drips!"
"I admitted nothing of the sort!" He brushed some non-existent dust off his shoulder and looked around him, before asking in a hushed voice, "what exactly is your end goal here? What are you actually hoping to gain?"
Ozzy just stared at him blankly for a few moments, before slamming his fist down on the table. "It's about honour, respect, justice! He needs to learn that he can't get away with treatin' me like that!"
Drix furrowed his brow, and Ozzy huffed, waving his hand in front of his face. "Pfft, you wouldn't understand. Anyway, let's get back, time's a-tickin'. You're gonna help me write that letter, right?"
"Fine, I guess. It's not like I have anything better to do with my time other than help you with your dastardly schemes", Drix mumbled. "Are you really going to deliver it in person?"
"Yeah, the bastard wants it on his desk by tonight, so chop chop, let's get a move on!"
Ozzy traipsed down the narrow, dusty corridor, darting his eyes from side to side and nervously mumbling to himself. He moved slowly, discreetly, feeling slightly more nervous with every reluctant step as he approached Professor Roja's office.
He reached the door and peered through the small tinted glass window. There he was, hunched over his desk, a hand pressed to his cheek, the other holding what looked to be someone's essay.
Ozzy stood there watching him for a moment; his expression was softer than before, more vulnerable, as the dim light from the lamp illuminated his face. He started mumbling to himself then, and picked up a pen to write some corrections on the essay he was marking.
Ozzy cocked his head slightly. Right now, the professor looked totally harmless, almost… kind? He obviously cared a lot about his work, and therefore his students, to be staying so late past his usual teaching hours. Ozzy wondered if Drix was right, and if he had made a huge error in judgement.
He shook his head and frowned. No, this was the man who had disrespected him, humiliated him in front of the whole class and ruined his first impression with his peers, and Ozzy couldn't lose sight of that.
His mission still remained the same.
He inhaled deeply, cleared his throat and knocked on the door. The professor raised his head, his soft expression immediately melting away to be replaced by a smirk as soon as he saw Ozzy's face through the glass pane.
He dropped the essay on the desk and gestured with his hand for Ozzy to come in.
Ozzy cautiously pushed on the door and stepped inside his office. He darted his eyes around in all directions, attempting to learn as much as he could about him.
His office was small and cramped, but meticulously organised. The room was chock-full of books with well-loved spines stacked on shelves extending up to the ceiling. On his desk were a few happy looking, seemingly well cared for cactuses, and a heap of exam papers piled higher than Ozzy could even reach.
Is he gonna mark all of those tonight? Ozzy thought, before returning his gaze to the professor, watching as he slowly pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.
He extended out a hand and didn't even try to hide the smarmy smile now spreading across his face. Ozzy frowned and handed him the apology letter. God, he's fuckin' lovin' this.
He turned around to leave, when the professor stopped him. "Um, Jones, what in the name of sweet bleeding Frank is this?"
Ozzy spun back around, a puzzled look on his face. "What d'ya mean? It's the letter you wanted me to write."
The professor lowered the paper and raised his gaze to look at Ozzy. "It's utterly illegible."
Ozzy flinched at that and readied himself to reply with a scathing insult, before remembering his plan. He relaxed his shoulders and smirked. "Well all my other teachers could read my writing just fine, so maybe you need a stronger pair of glasses, sir. You're not young anymore, y'know."
The professor narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, before thrusting the letter at Ozzy. "Read it out to me."
Ozzy's eyes widened. "What?! Are you serious?!"
"As serious as a 108 degree fever."
Ozzy's mouth fell open. "No, there is no way I'm reading that out to you! S'not my fault you're illiterate!"
The professor leant over the desk until they were face to face. "How badly do you wanna pass this course, Jones? Is your ego really more important to you than a bright future and an illustrious career as a detective?", he whispered, shaking the paper a few times.
Ozzy narrowed his eyes and stared back at him for what felt like forever. He wanted nothing more than to scream at him, to rip the letter out of his hands and tear it into a thousand little pieces, to tell this virus every disgusting thing he thought about him, but he stopped himself.
He may have to lose the first few battles, but this war was definitely not over. Ozzy hadn't even had a chance to make his first move yet. Oh yes, when he finally did get his revenge, it would taste so fucking sweet.
He snatched the paper from his clawed hands and gripped it tightly. He cleared his throat and started reading, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible to hide how enraged he felt inside.
"Ahem, I, Osmosis Jones, sincerely apologise for my disrespectful actions in today's class towards you, Professor Roja. I take full responsibility for everything that went down, and I now fully realise that my behaviour was unacceptable.
I will endeavour to always arrive on time, only speak when spoken to, and never backtalk you again. I hope you can forgive my actions and allow me to continue to learn from you.
Sincerely,
Osmosis Jones."
He lowered the paper and glared up at the professor. "There. Ya happy?"
That was so fuckin' humiliating.
"Concise and to the point. Not as eloquent as I would've liked, but I guess it's what's to be expected from someone with your educational background."
Ozzy scrunched up his face at that, and if looks could kill, the professor would have surely been reduced to nothing but a bubbling puddle of cytoplasm on the floor.
He continued, seemingly unfazed by Ozzy's incensed glare. "The next time you submit something to me, use less slang, try to improve the transitions between your ideas, and open a thesaurus once in a while."
Ozzy grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the letter, crinkling the paper slightly. "Yes, sir." He threw the letter down on the desk and stood up straight. "May I leave now?"
Professor Roja gave a dismissive wave of his hand and sat back down. He watched amusedly as Ozzy stormed out of his office and reached out to take the letter in his hands.
His smile faded as he looked back down at it. The handwriting was truly terrible, an almost indecipherable scrawl, but the words had been heartfelt and seemingly sincere.
Normally he would never have tolerated someone speaking back to him like Jones had done, especially doing so in front of one of his classes, and he had a mind to ring the director and have Ozzy thrown off the course for good.
Nevertheless, there was something fun about their little back and forth. He knew it was not at all professional of him, but some small part of him enjoyed toying with the white blood cell.
Despite his small stature, Jones had the confidence and courage that Professor Roja had only ever seen in other viruses, and it intrigued him. He wanted to see where exactly their little game would lead.
Besides, after four years of teaching the same material day in, day out without a single incident against his name, surely he'd earned himself a little fun?
If man is the father, the son is the centre of the earth
In the middle of the universe…
Ozzy awoke with a start and snapped his heavy eyelids open. "What the…?!" He turned his head towards where the irritating noise was coming from and frowned. "Ugh, it's my fuckin' alarm!"
Then why is this verse comin' six times rehearsed?
Don't freestyle much but I write 'em like such…
"Shut up!", he groaned as he flailed his arm around trying to turn his alarm off.
Amongst the fiends, controlled by the scre-
"Gotcha, ya dickhead", he grumbled as he slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, knocking it off the bedside table and onto the floor in the process.
He leaned over the side of the bed and squinted to try and see the time. 8:00am. He groaned and pressed his face back into the pillow.
He wasn't accustomed to getting up early, much less waking up to the sound of an alarm clock ringing in his ears. On a normal day he would simply ignore it and allow himself to drift back off to sleep, rolling out of bed around four hours later to face the day and whatever consequences had been brought about by his tardiness.
But today wasn't a normal day. Today was Thursday, and therefore his second class with Professor Roja. Through sheer willpower and spite alone, he forced himself to sit up. He rubbed his eyes and pushed his curls out of his face, before begrudgingly rising to his feet and dragging himself to the bathroom.
He reached the sink and stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. "So that's what I look like at 8:00am? Sweet mother of Frank…"
Dark circles hanging under bloodshot eyes, hair sprouting from the top of his head like he'd been dragged through a hedge, saliva drying in the corner of his mouth, his face squished and distorted from lying on his front.
Ozzy had been at his desk until the wee hours of the morning, heedless of Drix's advice to get a good night's sleep. He had spent hours poring over the first unit of the textbook, desperately trying to memorise every word, every detail, every pronunciation of every ridiculously complicated biological term.
Just as Drix had predicted, this new obsession had fully taken over Ozzy's entire week and consumed his every thought. As a consequence, he hadn't studied for any of his other subjects. Hell, he'd barely even attended any of the classes, only peering round the door to his criminology class to make sure that the teacher wasn't also a virus, before scurrying off as soon as he saw that she was just a regular white blood cell.
Everything else had been put on hold to focus on biology. He knew deep down that this wasn't healthy, and definitely not sustainable, but he pushed that little, nagging voice to the back of his mind and swiftly drowned it with information about cell theory and bacteria.
The only thing he cared about right now was beating the professor at his own game and showing everyone that he couldn't be pushed around, much less by an arrogant, stuck up virus.
Ozzy ran across the courtyard towards the science block, his rucksack unusually heavy on his back.
After seeing that he was only using it to carry around one blunt pencil and a pack of bubble-gum, Drix had filled it with various notepads, folders, multiple pencil cases of different types of markers and pens, and all his first year biology textbooks.
Ozzy had told him he was being overly dramatic, but Drix assured him that being organised and prepared was the best way to get on Professor Roja's good side. Ozzy made a comment about how he didn't have a good side, and Drix swiftly hit him round the back of the head with another notepad, before shoving it into his already bulging rucksack.
Ozzy finally stopped running as he reached the door to the lecture hall. He was out of breath and his eyes bleary from having to wake up at this Frank forsaken hour, but he was on time. Early even. Hell, he was the first to arrive!
He let his rucksack slide off his shoulders and fall to the floor with a thud, before leaning against the wall behind him and tilting his head back. He shut his eyes and smiled to himself as he thought about what Professor Roja's reaction would be upon seeing that he was not only on time, but that he had already learned the entire first module in just a few days.
This class was going to be Ozzy's chance to show off all he had been studying and level the playing field with Professor Roja.
His breathing slowed as he started to relax against the wall behind him, dozing off slightly, until he suddenly felt a presence in front of him. He snapped his eyes open and flinched when he saw the professor looming over him with a confused look on his face.
"Jeez!", Ozzy said, before bending down to pick his rucksack up off the floor. "Man, you made me jump! What're you doin' sneakin' up on me like that?"
The professor drew himself up to his full height and frowned. "I didn't 'sneak'. You just have absolutely no awareness of your surroundings. Besides, what the hell are you doing here fifteen minutes early?"
Ozzy forced a smile as he struggled to slide the rucksack straps over his shoulders. "Well, I'm a cell of my word. I promised I'd never be late to your class again, so here I am, keeping that promise", he asserted, leaning back slightly due to the weight of his bag.
Professor Roja raised an eyebrow and turned to the door, slotting the key in. He stepped inside and held the door open for Ozzy, saying quietly, "I'm gonna be setting up for the class, but you're welcome to sit down, if ya like. Just don't talk to me."
Ozzy nodded and followed him in. He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him, and watched the professor head to the podium.
His vision then panned towards the empty seats. His position in the class would be crucial for determining the success of his plan; he needed a seat that would allow him to be as disruptive as possible. Somewhere the professor couldn't ignore him even if he wanted to.
He glanced over to Professor Roja again, seeing that he was now taking his books out of his briefcase and organising them neatly on his desk. Ozzy shuffled past him and chose to sit in the very same seat as the last class, the one directly in front of the podium.
He pulled the heavy chair out from under the table, both of them wincing slightly as it scraped across the floor. Ozzy quickly sat himself down and started taking out his books and pencil cases. He set about neatly stacking his books on one corner, with his pencil cases organised on the other, unaware that the professor was watching him amusedly.
After a few moments of meticulous organising, there was nothing left to do but wait for the other students to arrive, and an uncomfortable silence fell upon the room. Ozzy raised his gaze to look at the professor, who was skimming over the textbook.
He swallowed thickly and started fiddling with one of the fancy pens that Drix had lent him. "Sooo… how's your week been then?", Ozzy asked awkwardly, desperate to break the silence.
"Why is it that you are unable to follow my one simple instruction, Jones?", Professor Roja muttered, not taking his eyes off the textbook.
Ozzy furrowed his brow. "Huh?"
"I told you not to talk to me."
"Oh… yeah", Ozzy replied quietly, resting his cheek on his hand and looking down at his desk. Jesus Christ. He's such a fuckin' jerk.
They both sat there in complete silence, the only sound coming from the professor's pen as he made some notes in his textbook.
The silence was almost painful, and Ozzy shifted about in his seat, biting the nail off his left thumb. How can he stand this?! Surely he's suffering too? Or is this just another one of his little psychological tricks?
Mercifully, the door to the lecture hall was then pushed open, and Ozzy sighed with relief as the first few students started to file into the hall. Everyone quickly found their seats and sat down in silence, and Ozzy noticed how they all got their books and pens out without the professor having to ask them.
He'd never seen students show such respect towards a teacher before, but is it really 'respect' if the only reason you behave is because you're scared shitless of getting impaled by the teacher's claws?
"I trust y'all have already read the brief and done the necessary research for today's class? Turn to page thirteen and do exercise two, in silence", Professor Roja said, before sauntering over to the door.
Ozzy took a pen in his hand and started to fill in the answers. He finished question one with no problems, but was suddenly distracted as he saw the professor slip his jacket over his shoulders.
Ozzy tilted his head to the side as he traced up and down the curve of his waist with his eyes, following the line of his back towards his shoulders. Time seemed to stop then, and it was as if the professor was moving in slow motion as he turned back around to face the class.
Just then, their eyes met, and they shared a look that, in reality, probably didn't last much longer than a second, but to them it felt like an eternity. Ozzy swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry, and his eyes widened as the professor shot him a devilish smile, pushing his hair back with his hand.
Ozzy quickly looked down and started on question two, while Professor Roja hung his jacket on one of the hooks by the door. He watched Ozzy closely as he walked back over to the podium, observing the way his hand was pressed to his cheek, the furrow of his brow, his quiet murmuring as he read over the questions.
He couldn't help but notice the drastic change in him compared to the previous class; somehow in the space of a few days he'd gone from a lazy, self-righteous, loud-mouthed brat with bad hair to a seemingly respectable, determined, hard-working adult.
The professor leaned his back against the podium and looked down at his watch. "Right, time's up. You there at the back, the one with the hideous mullet, what didja get for question one?"
As the student gave his answer with a shaking voice, Ozzy looked back over at the professor's jacket now hanging by the door. He furrowed his brow as he studied the lining, the details on the cuffs, the stitching around the pockets. He remembered what Drix had said about Professor Roja's pay check and suddenly felt a jolt of anger run through him.
God, that jacket must've cost a fortune. I bet he earns more doin' this two hour class than I'd make in an entire year as a cop.
He frowned and looked down at his hands. He probably lives in a fancy ass penthouse, owns a pricey car and goes out to expensive restaurants every night, all on the taxpayers' dime.
"Jones?"
He tried to kill this body and they're paying him more than the people who work their butts off and risk their lives to protect it?!
"Jones…"
Has the world gone fuckin' CRAZY?!
"Jones!", the professor snapped, hitting Ozzy's desk with his pointing stick.
Ozzy blinked and shook his head, raising his gaze to look at the professor. He cleared his throat and said quietly, "yeah uh, here, sir."
"What d'ya think this is, kindergarten? I'm not taking roll call here. What answer did you get for question five?"
Ozzy's eyes snapped down to question five. Blank. Fuck. He shifted nervously in his seat and looked back up at him. "Uh.. I got uhh… fifteen."
"The main difference between a eukaryote and a prokaryote is… fifteen?"
Ozzy felt the heat rising to his cheeks. "Uh.. no, of course, it's… that they're… well… a prokaryote… ain't got a nucleus… right?"
"Very eloquently put, I must say. And tell me, Jones. What type of organism is Methanopyrus kandleri?"
Ozzy's eyes lit up as he recognised the name. "Oh oh oh! I know this one too! It's an archaeon!", he said triumphantly, a smug grin spreading over his face.
Professor Roja raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so ya know how to read a textbook. And what is it that makes Methanopyrus kandleri so unique?"
Shit, me and Drix did go over this… what was it? He pursed his lips as he desperately tried to pull the answer out of his brain. "Um… its cellular membrane is unique because… it consists of ter… terpenoid lipids?", he said quietly, not entirely confident in his answer.
He thought he saw a slight furrow of the professor's brow then, probably signalling that Ozzy had in fact got it right. He let a small smirk cross his face and narrowed his eyes. Hah. Betcha didn't expect that, didja, big guy?
The professor limited himself to a simple, "hm", before turning his head to face the rest of the class and continuing to elicit the answers from the other students.
Ozzy allowed that tiny smirk to spread across his whole face. He'd done it. All the studying he'd done had worked!
Professor Roja's barely visible reaction wouldn't have registered with the majority of the class, but both he and Ozzy knew what was really going on here. He had tried to trip Ozzy up and humiliate him again, but it had backfired massively. The score was officially tied.
Ozzy sat back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders, exhaling deeply. He glanced at his watch; only ten minutes into the class and he'd already managed to level the playing field.
With a whole fifty minutes to go, Ozzy was practically vibrating with glee over the prospect of maybe being able to officially one-up him.
He picked up his pen and started taking vigorous notes of every single thing that Professor Roja said, concentrating on trying to pick up on any mistake he might make.
As the lesson continued, Ozzy couldn't help but admire the professor's voice. Despite his burning hatred for the man, there was something about his deep, velvety tone and the warm, round sounds of his words that kept making Ozzy lose focus. The only way he could think to describe it was that it was like floating in a bowl of thick melted chocolate, and he found himself getting continuously, uncontrollably lost in him with every sentence.
Jeez… he may be a dickhead, but fuck me, his voice…
Ozzy shook his head and frowned. Focus Ozzy! This is not the time to get distracted!
A few more minutes passed, during which the professor responded to a student's question about the functions of the uvula, while Ozzy continued filling up page after page with detailed notes.
"...as part of the soft palate, the uv-uh-la helps prevent food and liquid from…"
There it was! A teeny-tiny mispronunciation, just what Ozzy had been waiting for. Now was his chance to strike.
He abruptly sat up in his seat and shot his hand in the air, interrupting him. "It's actually pronounced yoo-vyoo-luh, sir", Ozzy said confidently, a big grin plastered on his face. All of Drix's mind-numbing pronunciation drills had paid off.
Professor Roja blinked at him for a moment, before a sardonic smile crept across his face, subsequently wiping away Ozzy's feeling of triumph as quickly as it had appeared.
He slowly sauntered across the floor towards Ozzy and dropped his teacher's manual on his desk. "Go on, Jones, let's see you do the class then. Come on, on your feet."
Ozzy stared up at him and quickly shook his head, eyebrows drawn together in the middle. "No, I-I really don't think that's necess-"
"Let's go, we ain't got all day. I'm sure the class will benefit from your excellent pronunciation and expertise."
Neither of them moved for a few moments, simply staring at each other to see who would cave first. The silence was deafening, but the rest of the students dared not make a sound, limiting themselves to simply spectating.
Eventually, the pressure became too much, and Ozzy slowly stood up to his feet, taking the textbook in his hands.
"Which bit d'ya want me to read?", he asked through gritted teeth. Fuck. I pushed him too far.
"Just read that paragraph there", the professor said, tapping the passage with his claw, purposefully choosing one that he knew contained a lot of long, complicated words.
This'll teach ya, boy.
Ozzy glanced at the title and suddenly felt a surge of elation run through his entire nucleus. 'Gram-negative bacteria'. The very paragraph that he and Drix had been religiously reciting the previous night.
He cleared his throat and started reading, making sure to pronounce everything just as Drix had taught him. "Gram-negative bacteria are surrounded by a thin peptidoglycan cell wall, which itself is surrounded by an outer membrane containing… lipopolysaccharide."
He straightened himself and continued, his voice now more confident. "Gram-positive bacteria lack an outer membrane but are surrounded by layers of peptidoglycan many times thicker than is found in the Gram-negatives."
He flicked his eyes up at Professor Roja and said, "should I go on, sir?", his voice laced with sneering superiority.
Professor Roja scowled at him and ripped the book out of his hands. "Give me three examples of Gram-positive bacteria", he barked.
"Streptococcus, Staphylococcus aaaand Bacillus anthracis", Ozzy replied cockily, enunciating each word while jerking his head from side to side on every other syllable.
"And what is it that makes Gram-negative bacteria especially resistant to drugs?"
Ozzy rolled his eyes and grinned. "Oh that's easy, sir! They have a membrane that protects them from their environment, which they can use to selectively keep antibiotic drugs from gettin' in!"
Ozzy's answer echoed round the hall, obliterating any trace of the confidence that Professor Roja had previously displayed.
He inhaled sharply and gripped the textbook tightly in his clawed hands. "Right, everyone turn to page 15 and do all the exercises. In silence. And if I hear so much as a peep outta anyone, I'm setting you all an exam on Monday."
Notes: LMAO this chapter took AGES to write! I have no idea if the biology is accurate, so I'm sorry if it's a bit off in places (I'm useless at science!)
Please let me know if you're enjoying this story! I love to hear from you all, and it's always so great to speak to other fans of this franchise! Thank you so very much for reading, and any favourites and comments are always very much appreciated!
