Ozzy scurried out of the lecture hall, waiting until he had turned the corner at the end of the corridor before letting his smile spread across his face. He pressed his back to the wall and pumped the air with his fist, which earned a few odd looks from the other students as they passed him, but he didn't give one solitary shit.
He'd done it! He'd actually done it! He had beaten that arrogant, conceited professor at his own game, showing him and the other students that he wasn't one to be messed with.
The rest of the class had gone perfectly; Professor Roja had spent the remaining half an hour sitting at his desk in a huff, angrily scrawling in his notepad and occasionally barking orders at a few unfortunate students to read from the textbook. He'd avoided making eye contact with Ozzy at all costs, as if even just looking at him made him feel physically sick.
Ozzy laughed to himself as he remembered the professor angrily shoving his books into his briefcase, before announcing that he would be setting an exam on Monday, despite everyone remaining deadly silent throughout the whole lesson.
Ozzy tilted his head back against the wall and let his rucksack sink to the floor as he exhaled all the nervous, excited energy that had been circulating around his nucleus during the last hour.
Being put on the spot with difficult questions and having to read from the textbook in front of everyone were two techniques that teachers had used against him time and time again, usually ending up totally humiliating him.
This time, however, they had actually worked in his favour.
The professor would think twice before messing with him again, Ozzy was sure of that.
Just as Ozzy bent down to pick his rucksack off the floor, a pair of familiar, lavish boots stilled in front of him. He raised his gaze slowly, purposefully so, until his eyes landed on the professor's face, seeing the usual cruel smirk plastered upon it.
Ozzy stood as tall as he could and tilted his head to the side slightly as he mirrored the professor's expression. "Hey, teach! How's it hangin'? Great class today, by the way, I really felt like I learned a lot." He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "Well, I think we all learned a lil somethin', don't you?"
The professor's smile widened and he leaned down to Ozzy's level, his face hovering just in front of his. "I can't say I'm not… pleasantly surprised, Jones. Impressed, even. I had clearly underestimated you. My mistake."
He leaned in further, enough to whisper in Ozzy's ear. "Good luck for the exam on Monday. I'm looking forward to seeing how well you can apply all that knowledge when I add a lil bit of pressure."
Ozzy felt a shiver go through him as the professor's soft breath tickled his neck. He stood on his tiptoes, his cheek brushing against the professor's in the process, and whispered back, "can't wait, baby. Bring it on."
He then moved his head back slightly to flash him a pearly white smile, before turning on his heels and sauntering down the corridor towards the exit.
Fully aware that the professor's eyes were still on him, he may have deliberately added a little sway to his step, although he would rather die than admit it.
He pushed on the doors and stepped outside into the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air and exhaling deeply. Today was a good day, too good even to be marred by the thought of being tied to his desk all weekend to study for that exam.
Besides, seeing the look of defeat on the professor's face beat any party he could possibly hope to go to this weekend.
He had, however, promised himself and Drix that once he'd got his revenge he would try his best to regain his normal lifestyle and, more importantly, actually attend his other classes.
First things first though, he had the tennis club try-outs to attend. He ran into the bathroom near the sports hall and changed into his brand new white shorts and shirt. He left the cubicle to check himself out in the grimy mirror above the sink and whistled as he dragged his fingers from the collar down to his waist.
He did a little spin to check out the back and winked at himself over his shoulder, before grabbing his matching white cap from his overflowing rucksack and placing it on his head. "Baby, you are lookin' fiiiine today", he lulled.
Ozzy gripped his tennis racket tightly in both hands as he stared down his opponent, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He displayed a confident smile, bordering on arrogant, but inside he felt extremely nervous.
Just like in every aspect of his life, he was extremely competitive when it came to sports. He wasn't what you would call a gracious winner, but he was an even worse loser.
He'd chalked that up to the fact that everyone had always underestimated him, and therefore he saw every win as a chance to prove himself and change people's preconceived notions of him.
He looked his opponent up and down. He was larger, taller and older than Ozzy was, and they both knew that the rest of the club members would have already subconsciously placed bets on Ozzy to lose against him.
Despite his athletic build, his short stature meant that he had often been picked last for the football teams at school. There were numerous other reasons for this, however, some of which were, admittedly, his fault.
A big one was that he was infamous for being a clutz, always fumbling the ball or passing it to the wrong team, on the rare occasions that he would actually pass the ball, that is.
Another reason was his ridiculous ego; he always wanted to be the one to make the touchdown, and once he got hold of the ball, he would brazenly charge past the Defensive Line without passing it to his teammates even once.
He believed in himself, even if no one else did, and despite often managing to weave his way around the defence and dodge any tackles, his actions usually came off as more selfish than heroic, earning him more scolding than praise.
That's exactly why he had chosen tennis; he and his rival would be the only ones on the court, and Ozzy wouldn't have to fight to get noticed, allowing him to focus solely on the game.
Also, while football relied heavily on brute strength, tennis relied more on speed, agility, flexibility and accuracy.
The first three he had, particularly the latter.
Accuracy… not so much. His uncle had once spent a whole day trying to teach Ozzy to shoot a gun as soon as he had shown an interest in joining the immunity force, but despite their collective efforts and hours at the shooting range, his uncle had deemed him a lost cause after seeing him shoot everywhere but the target over and over again.
Ozzy had blamed the gun, the wind, his uncle's constant yelling in his ear, anything to try and distract himself from what he knew to be true: he just wasn't a very good shot.
Suddenly, Ozzy was distracted from his train of thought when his opponent threw the tennis ball in the air and swung his racket as hard as he could, sending the ball hurtling towards the bottom left corner of the court. Before Ozzy could even react, the score was 15-love in his opponent's favour.
He shook his head and slapped himself on the cheek. Focus! Stop getting distracted!
He narrowed his eyes and watched as the second ball was thrown into the air and served towards the same corner. Heh, a bit of a one-trick cell, aren't ya? Well, that won't work on me twice.
He slid over to where the ball was headed and grinned as he felt it make contact with his racket. He swung his arm and delivered the ball back to his opponent, before darting back over to the middle of the court to return the next shot, watching it hit the ground just inside the lines and bounce out of play.
He heard the umpire call out "15 all!"
"Yes!", Ozzy shouted, punching the air with his fist. He didn't have long to celebrate, however, as his opponent had already hit the ball towards his end of the court, but Ozzy was ready, and sent it straight back.
This game lasted longer than the previous two, but, surprisingly to everyone but himself, Ozzy actually won, putting the score at 15-30.
He flicked his eyes over to the tennis coach and shot him a big grin. Ozzy knew he didn't have to win this match to make the team, he just had to demonstrate that he possessed the basic necessary skills to become a decent player, but, fuck, did he want to win. Besides, luck seemed to be on his side today.
He laughed to himself as he remembered the professor's face at the end of the class, along with his words echoing around in his mind, 'I can't say I'm not… pleasantly surprised… I underestimated you'.
Ozzy narrowed his eyes and tensed his hands around the racket. Yeah, you and everybody else. I'll show ya, Roja.
He returned the next serve a little too hard and clenched his teeth as he watched the ball go high over his opponent's head, sighing with relief as it connected with the top of his racket and flew off to the side. 15-40.
Ozzy studied his opponent's face for a moment, watching as he cursed under his breath and glanced over at the coach. Heh, he must be gettin' a lil nervous himself. My shot was going out, for sure.
His opponent bounced the ball with his racket a few times, before tossing it in the air and hitting it towards Ozzy, hard.
Fuck! Luckily Ozzy was quick to react and jumped out of the ball's path before it could collide with his face, but unfortunately this meant he'd lost the point. 30-40.
Okay, he wants to play dirty? I'm down with that.
His opponent served again, slightly weaker this time, although Ozzy certainly felt the strength in his shot as the ball hit his racket, the vibrations travelling down the handle and into his arm as he sent it back to the other side of the court.
As the game continued, neither of them showed any obvious signs of yielding, but Ozzy could feel his legs tiring. This guy's bigger and stronger than me. I'm gonna need to do somethin' to mess him up a bit.
As he sent the ball back to his opponent, he paused for a moment to try and guess where exactly it would land once it was hit back to his end of the court. Judging from the angle of the bat, it would fly to Ozzy's left, so Ozzy quickly went right.
His opponent smirked as he saw Ozzy supposedly go the wrong way, but his smile was wiped from his face as Ozzy stretched his arm out and hit the ball from the opposite end of his court. The hit was weak, but it was just enough to get the ball over the net.
It bounced by his opponent's feet and flew out of play, and Ozzy threw his arms in the air as the umpire announced, "game!"
Ozzy turned to face the crowd with a huge smile, only to be met with confused faces. Shit, I shouldn't have revealed my secret weapon so soon.
All white blood cells were pliant and flexible, but Ozzy was especially so. This allowed him to easily change his appearance, to stretch any part of his body as much as he liked, and to fit through tiny spaces, and although this usually worked in his favour, it didn't tend to receive very positive reactions from other cells.
Some were simply jealous over his exceptional pliability, while others openly mocked him for being different. Often it was a bit of both.
Either way, Ozzy felt proud of his abilities and was glad that he had them. He just needed to learn to use them properly, but he was sure they would serve him well when he finally became a detective one day.
He looked some of the members of the crowd up and down and sneered, before turning to face the coach as he approached him.
"Good job, kid! Impressive stuff! Your swing needs some practice, and we'll work on your precision, but in general I could tell that you're someone who performs well under pressure, and was surprised to see a lot of technical skill from you." He extended out an arm to shake Ozzy's hand. "Welcome to the team, son!"
There was that word again, 'surprised'. Ozzy smiled and enthusiastically shook the coach's hand. "I won't let you down!"
He thanked the coach and turned around to head back to his dorm. He decided he liked surprising people.
Ozzy stood under his dorm room shower, screeching the lyrics to the song that was blasting from his speakers. He did a little spin on one leg and almost slipped, before catching himself on the shower wall.
He turned to look at himself in the steamy mirror, seeing that he had a huge grin plastered on his face. Today had been fucking fantastic in every single way, and the day had only just begun!
He had the whole afternoon free, so had decided he would take it easy, allowing himself to rest before going to his first criminology class tomorrow morning.
He had then planned to spend the whole of Friday night and the weekend studying, despite that little voice in the back of his mind begging him to go out and party, its arguments getting progressively louder and more persuasive with every passing moment.
For once in his life, he chose to ignore it, convincing himself with the thought that he would have hundreds of chances to go out while he was at college, but only a handful of crucial, precious opportunities to really stick it to Professor Roja.
He grabbed the bottle of shower gel and held it in front of his mouth like a microphone to sing the chorus, before squirting a generous amount of gel into his palms, lathering it up and rubbing it over himself.
His soapy fingers glided up his arm and across his chest, and he sighed and shut his eyes as he felt the warm water begin to soothe his sore muscles.
As his body started to relax, a pair of smouldering, golden eyes flashed before him, together with a broad, crooked smile. Ozzy snapped his eyes open and frowned, immediately knowing who they belonged to.
What the fuck are you doing here? Why won't you leave me alone? Ozzy thought, and subconsciously started scrubbing himself harder.
Deep down, he knew why. Despite the animosity he felt towards him, Ozzy couldn't deny that the professor had... something about him. A strange appeal that even Ozzy, who exclusively dated women, couldn't ignore.
He lightly slapped himself on the cheek in an attempt to stop his mind from wandering again. He applied some more shower gel to his legs and massaged small circles on his hips and thighs, trying to work out the knots.
As he washed the suds off his skin, he allowed himself to think about a few of the things he liked about the professor's appearance. First were those eyes, deep and intense, giving him an appealing air of mystery, with just a dash of arrogance.
Then there was his smile. Somehow, its uneven crookedness only added to his charm, sending a sting of jealousy through Ozzy's whole body as he remembered those two torturous years of having to wear braces to correct the gap between his middle teeth.
How is it possible that an imperfection can make someone even… hotter?
Ozzy laughed at himself then. Hot?! What the fuck am I even sayin'? All this studyin' must be makin' me crazy.
He shut his eyes and started humming the tune of the song as he worked a dollop of shampoo through his hair
For some reason, there was a big part of him that secretly wished that Professor Roja had been at the tennis try-outs today to see him win. Ozzy could picture him now: sitting on the bleachers with one muscular thigh crossed over the other; his short sleeved shirt tight on his chest; his piercing, ardent eyes narrowing as Ozzy went to take the winning shot…
"Fuck's sake! Get outta my head!" Ozzy hissed. He turned the temperature of the shower down to the coldest it would go and shoved his face into the water, hoping it would nip these confusing feelings in the bud before they had the chance to blossom into something even weirder.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he said quietly, turning the shower off and reaching out to grab a towel. He started drying himself off and sighed.
He'd had issues with all of his teachers, but this time it felt different, deeper, somehow more personal. What was it about this virus that had such a hold on him?
Despite all of his uncertainty on the matter, however, he knew one thing for sure; this obsession would be a hard one to shake.
"You're going out?" Ozzy asked with wide eyes as he watched Drix adjusting his bowtie.
"Yes of course, it is the first Friday of the new term, after all! I'm meeting up with some of my friends from the Home Economics club."
Ozzy's eyebrows shot up at that. It hadn't even occurred to him that Drix would have friends other than himself, and he wasn't going to lie, finding out that he did was kind of upsetting.
Since they were kids it had always been Ozzy and Drix. They quarrelled and bickered like brothers, but they trusted each other completely, and each one knew that they would always have the other one's back.
Ozzy slumped down on his desk chair and sighed. He knew deep down that he shouldn't be upset about this. Drix had been at college the whole of last year without Ozzy, so it was completely normal that he had met new people and branched out.
It still hurt, though.
He looked up at Drix and smiled sadly as he saw him happily humming away while he checked himself out in the mirror.
"You look good, man. I hope you have fun", Ozzy said quietly, before turning his gaze to trail his eyes up the pile of biology textbooks, grimacing at the sheer size of it.
Drix turned to face him and furrowed his brow. "Would you like to come? I hate the thought of you staying here all by yourself."
Ozzy sucked some air through his teeth as he thought hard about his answer. The Thursday afternoon off from studying had unfortunately rolled over onto Friday too, meaning he hadn't even had a chance to look over the second module for his biology course yet.
"I'd really like you to come… it won't be the same without you", Drix said softly, an expectant smile on his face.
Ozzy rolled his eyes and grinned. "Tsk, you are so manipulative sometimes."
"I just think you need a break, Ozzy", Drix said as he headed into the bathroom. "Besides, I'm sure there are some ladies who would love to see you strut your stuff on the dance floor…"
Ozzy slammed his fist on the desk and yelled, "God damnit, Drips!" earning a laugh from the bathroom.
Fuck's sake, that effervescent bastard knows me too well.
He looked back up at the pile of books and sighed. Maybe Drix was right, maybe it would do him good to blow off some steam. Besides, between staying here to study mitosis all night, or going to a club and possibly meeting a girl, the choice was obvious.
"Fine! Okay okay, you win!"
He spun around on his chair and grinned as Drix excitedly ran out of the bathroom. "Ooh ooh, I simply cannot wait to introduce you to my friends! They are positively hilarious!"
"Yeah yeah, I'm sure, but more importantly, where are we goin'?"
"There's that new club 'Glance the night away' right above Frank's eyelid. It's a bit on the pricey side, but I've heard that the bathrooms are exceptionally clean."
"Oh yeah, because that's exactly what I'm looking for in a club; hygiene. Are there any other clubs around here that aren't 'exceptionally clean'?" Ozzy scoffed, making air quotes with his fingers on the last two words. "I don't want to go anywhere too fancy, Drips, I wanna let loose a lil!"
"You go ahead and make your jokes, but I distinctly remember when you wouldn't stop going on about the cushioned toilet seats and nice smelling hand sanitizer in the last place you deemed 'too fancy'."
He tilted his capsule to the side as he thought about whether there were any other decent clubs nearby, and by decent he meant one that actually had cleaning staff and wasn't crawling with depraved germs and bacteria. "Well… there's 'I wanna take you to a gaze bar', but that one is mainly… ahem, men only."
Ozzy thought about it for a beat, before shaking his head. "Nah, maybe next time. They're always super fun, but I wanna score tonight. Besides, I bet that Professor Roja goes there, and he's the last person I wanna run into."
"What, is he… y'know?"
"Have you seen the way he dresses? Of course he is!"
Drix narrowed his eyes, limiting his reply to a simple "hmm", before continuing. "Okay, well the only other club I know of around here that even comes close to passing a health inspection check is 'Eyes, Eyes, Baby'."
Ozzy grinned and leapt out of the chair. "Ohh now we're talkin'! Okay, it's settled! That idiotic name is all the information I need!" he yelled excitedly as he darted over to his suitcase.
He rummaged through all of his clothes, mumbling and tutting to himself as he did. He still hadn't unpacked any of his things since he'd arrived two weeks ago, and had simply been pulling random items of clothing out of his suitcase each morning.
He held up shirt after shirt, furrowing his brow over each one before chucking it behind him, getting more anxious with every item of clothing he discarded. Did he really not have anything decent to wear?
Scruffy, oversized clothes and messy hair to the contrary, he did in fact care about how he looked. Sadly, his parents hadn't had a lot of money while he was growing up, so he often had to make do with hand-me-downs from his older cousin, who was physically much larger than he was.
This unfortunately continued once he moved in with his uncle. Although he was grateful that they had taken him in, the difference between the way he and his wife treated Ozzy compared to their own son was painfully obvious.
Sure, they fed him, clothed him (even if the clothes weren't really his), provided him with shelter and a feeling of safety, but he never felt like he truly belonged to their little family.
Suddenly, he remembered what Professor Roja had said during their first encounter about his clothes being "second-hand and two sizes too big", and he felt a pang of shame in his throat.
He gripped hard onto the shirt in his hands, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Nah, he can go fuck himself if he thinks his little jabs are gonna ruin my night out.
He continued to look through all of his clothes, grinning as he found a tight, black, long-sleeved top. He then pulled out a pair of light blue, baggy jeans and a black belt. He slipped them on and turned to look at himself in the mirror, whistling at himself.
He ran his hands down his front and looped his thumbs through his belt. Ozzy knew he was a looker with or without expensive clothes, and he wasn't about to let some privileged, pretentious pathogen try to tell him otherwise.
Ozzy, Drix and two other members of the Home Economics club were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the nightclub. The music was thumping as every different kind of cell was on the dance floor, downing drinks, their bodies intertwining, all having the time of their lives.
All except one, that is.
Ozzy's eyes darted between Drix and his two friends, his mouth agape, as they held the most mind numbingly dull conversation Ozzy had ever witnessed in his life.
After a few more moments of what Ozzy could only describe as relentlessly tedious drivel, Drix turned to him and asked, "what's your opinion on the matter, Ozzy? I think the triangle quilting pattern is the most fun, whereas Sam here disagrees. He thinks the nine patch pattern is far more sophisticated. As a layman to the quilting world, what do you think?"
Ozzy's mouth quickly opened and closed as he tried to find the words. "I-I think I need a drink! I'll get you one too… be right back!" he yelled as he leapt up off the seat.
He exhaled sharply and hid behind an archway as he took his fake ID card out of his pocket. He squinted his eyes as he studied the features of his face in the photo.
In an attempt to make himself look older on the day the photo was taken, he had smoothed back his hair and pulled at his chin to make it slightly longer, while also pushing his waist in and making his shoulders slightly broader.
He set about trying to copy the photo as best he could, and glanced at himself in one of the grimy mirrors on the wall. It wasn't a perfect match, but under the dim lights and the thick smoke swirling around the room, he doubted that the bar staff would be able to tell the difference.
He approached the bar, fake ID in hand, and confidently asked for two whitehead russian cocktails.
The barmaid eyed him up and down as she dried a glass with a tea towel. "You got any ID, sir?", she asked, putting emphasis on the last word, clearly not believing for one second that he was of legal drinking age.
Ozzy shot her a pearly white smile and slid his ID card across the bar, before leaning both elbows on top and fluttering his eyelashes.
She took the card and raised an eyebrow. "Mister Mitosis Pickanosis?"
"In the flesh", he said, gesturing at himself with both hands.
"What's your address?"
Ozzy hesitated for a moment as he tried to remember the fake address he'd used. "42 Left Deltoid Street!" he exclaimed, patting the bar with one hand.
She narrowed her eyes, knowing full well that this was a fake ID, but it was almost the end of her shift and she had no desire for any problems. Besides, it didn't make any difference to her if this kid got absolutely wasted out of his mind. Why should she care?
She poured the drinks and snatched up the money that Ozzy had left on the bar top, before turning around to serve another customer. Ozzy grinned and kissed the ID card. "You little beauty!" He then shoved it back into his pocket and picked up both drinks to take them over to where Drix was sitting.
He plonked himself down and handed Drix his whitehead russian. "Cheers!" he said as he clinked their glasses together.
Drix cautiously brought the drink up to sniff it and grimaced. "Jones! There's alcohol in here!"
Ozzy widened his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand, acting shocked. "Oh shit, really? I'm sorry Drips! I guess that barmaid must fancy you and she's tryna get you all drunk."
Drix shot him a dirty look, which Ozzy returned with a wink. "Come on, drink up! We wouldn't wanna disappoint your secret admirer now, would we?"
Drix tutted and placed the glass down on the table, before continuing his furious debate with Sam over quilt patterns.
"Fine, if you don't want it, more for me!" Ozzy said with a smile, before he started nursing his whitehead russian, zoning out as he watched all the cells dancing around him.
Suddenly the music changed to one of his favourite songs and his eyes lit up. He finished his own drink and then downed Drix's in one, making some of the cream spill over the sides and run down his chin.
He leapt to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, before grabbing Drix by the wrist and attempting to haul him to his feet. "Come oooon ! Enough quilting bullshit, it's time to get jiggy!"
Drix rolled his eyes and got off his seat, allowing Ozzy to drag him past all the cells towards the middle of the dance floor.
Ozzy let go of his wrist and turned around to face him. "Right, you remember that lil dance routine that we were practising all summer? I think it's time we unveil it!" he yelled up at Drix.
"Ozzy, it's one thing to do 'the routine' in the privacy of your uncle's back garden, but there is absolutely no way I am doing that in public! Besides, the last time we tried it I almost crushed you."
"Yeah but I know what went wrong! We'll change it so that you pick me up at the end, instead of the other way round!"
"Sorry, Ozzy, maybe next time. My friends are waiting for me over there…"
"Pfft… suit yourself", Ozzy replied, trying not to show how hurt he felt as Drix turned around and headed back towards his friends.
"Eh, who needs ya? I bet I can find someone in here who actually respects the routine."
He swivelled his head around as he searched for someone worthy of being his dance partner.
He panned his vision over the crowd and scanned every cell around him, but after a few moments with no luck, he was starting to feel a little hopeless.
Until he saw her. And she saw him.
She looked incredible in a short, black dress, with her purple hair hanging over one eye and a gold necklace draped over her chest. The split second that their eyes met was pure magic, and they both felt it- that instantaneous, magnetic connection.
He flashed her a quick smile and his best come-get-me look, before turning to face the other way.
He felt the song, letting it consume him, and slowly ran his hands over the back of his head, down to his chest, then over his stomach, until finally trailing his fingers over his thighs as he looked at her over his shoulder.
This was a tried and tested method, and with a little extra sway in his hips, she was hooked. He smirked as he felt soft hands on his arms, spinning him around. He was met with a pair of hooded lids over honey brown eyes and a dizzyingly dreamy white smile.
They didn't say anything to each other, but no words were needed. Ozzy trailed his hands around her waist and rested them on the small of her back, pulling her closer until her chest was pressed up against his.
They danced slowly to the song, their proximity increasing, the heat rising, their limbs intertwining. The lights of the club flickered over her face as she snaked her arms around his neck to softly trail her fingers over his skin.
His eyes rolled shut as she pulled him down into a heated kiss, and his hands shamelessly roamed lower. He pulled her closer to him, wishing to press every part of himself against her as their bodies continued to flow to the slow beat.
They were getting utterly lost in each other, or at least, she was, for try as he might, Ozzy couldn't stop certain images from flashing before his mind's eye.
A brown belt looped through a pair of tight, black jeans…
He snapped his eyes open and broke the kiss for a moment to catch his breath, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her neck.
A dark sweater stretched taut over a thick, broad chest…
He frowned and kissed her harder, sucking a few bruises into her skin, but despite his best efforts, his mind kept getting away from him.
I wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his strong arms, pulling me closer, his legs sliding around my waist… Oh FUCK!
His grip tensed around her hips, trying to ground himself and get his mind to focus on this ridiculously gorgeous person in front of him. Snap out of it, Ozzy! Focus!
He buried his face into the crook of her neck again and started leaving slow, lingering kisses up towards her mouth.
As they shared another fervent kiss, he started to wonder how it would feel to have the professor like this. Would he be rough and dominating, forcing me against the wall and pressing himself up against me? Or would he be more gentle, caring, loving…?
"Fuck…!" he hissed, pulling away from the girl and bringing his hands up to his face. Fuck fuck fuck! Why was he thinking of him at a time like this? Could he not leave him alone for one single second?!
"Uh, you okay?" the girl asked with a frown, her voice slightly deeper than Ozzy had expected.
Ozzy forced a smile and grabbed her hand. "Yeah yeah, baby, just feelin' a bit… tired. Hey, I've got an idea! Let's go sit over there with my buddies!"
She shrugged and they both went over to the booth where Drix and his two friends were still deep in a heated debate, this time seemingly about baking.
"...and then I added the cinnamon like you suggested and … oh, hello, Ozzy!" Drix smirked and lowered his voice, "aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"
"Yeah, of course, this is…"
"Lucy", she said with a small wave, sitting herself down next to Ozzy.
The booth lighting was much brighter than it had been on the dancefloor, and Ozzy took a moment to roll his gaze over Lucy's face. She really was gorgeous, exactly his type; classy looking with curves in all the right places.
He slid his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek, while Sam attempted to make conversation with him.
"So, Drix tells me you had your first class with Professor Roja this week, how did it go?"
Ozzy's eyes flew open and he snapped his head around to look at Sam. "What? Did you say Professor Roja?"
Drix rolled his eyes and whispered to Sam, "I told you not to mention the professor in front of Ozzy!"
"What about him?" Ozzy asked eagerly, removing his arm from around Lucy to fully turn his torso towards Sam.
Lucy sighed, before pressing her lips to Ozzy's ear, trying to get him to focus on her again. "It's getting a little crowded in here… wanna come back to my place?"
Ozzy hummed in agreement and nodded. He held onto Lucy's hand and went to grab his jacket, until suddenly, Sam perked up and said, "yeah we were just talking about the professor. I went out for a smoke and saw him in the bar across the street."
Drix elbowed him in the side and said through gritted teeth, "I also told you not to say that to him!" He turned back to face Ozzy to see an enormous grin plastered on his face, his eyes wild.
"No no no, whatever you're thinking of doing, don't."
Ozzy snapped his head up to look at Drix and rubbed his hands together, his smile growing comically large and his eyes narrowing. He jumped to his feet and started hurriedly putting his jacket on.
Drix grabbed him by the wrist and said firmly, "Jones, no. You've already evened the score, why not just leave it there?"
"Don't worry Dripsy, I ain't gonna do anything stupid. I'm a master at this shit. I won't leave any tracks."
"Jones! Don't tell me you're going to try and prank him? Don't you remember the last time you pranked a teacher? You almost got expelled!"
Ozzy leant down and cupped Drix's cheeks with his hands. "Exactly, because I got caught! You heard it, Roja is in the bar over there, this is my time to strike!"
He let go of him and rummaged around in his pocket for a few bills, shoving them into Lucy's hand. "I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere! Buy yourself a couple of drinks!"
He kissed her on the lips, before darting over the back of the seat, yelling, "thanks for the intel, Dan!"
Sam frowned over Ozzy getting his name wrong and turned to face Drix to see him with a hand over his face.
"I told you not to tell him!"
Ozzy crept down the narrow corridor towards Professor Roja's office, aluminium foil in hand. After going to every shop that was still open within walking distance, he'd only managed to find two rolls, which definitely wouldn't be enough to cover his whole office, but this opportunity was just too good to pass up on.
He reached the door and peered through the small window to find it empty. He went down on all fours and squeezed his way through a small crack under the door.
He ducked down just in case anyone were to walk past and spot him through the window, and smiled to himself. Okay, Oz, you're in enemy territory now, gotta be extra careful.
He crawled across the floor to his desk and slowly stood to his feet, a menacing grin smeared across his face. He had to be selective with the tinfoil, so needed to think hard about what would piss the professor off the most.
He opened the top drawer in his desk and found a few notepads full of reminders and lesson plans. He flicked through the first notepad and raised an eyebrow when he saw his name scribbled at the top of the latest page with a big circle around it.
Hah. Nice to know I've gotten under his capsid.
He swiftly set about wrapping each notebook in tinfoil and neatly placed them back exactly where he found them.
Then he opened the bottom drawer and found some personal documents, all labelled with the name Thrax Roja. Thrax… so that's his name…
He dug a little deeper and furrowed his brow as he pulled out a chain. He held it up to get a better look at it and moved it through his fingers, feeling the cold, metallic texture as it rubbed past his skin.
What the fuck is this even for? It don't look like the type of chain you'd wear around your neck… or maybe that's exactly what it is!
He gripped it tightly and laughed to himself as he tied it loosely around his neck. Pfft, of course he's into this kinky BDSM shit… he's just the type to strangle ya…
He took it from around his neck, balled it up and scrunched some tinfoil around it, before shoving it back into the drawer.
He then picked up one of the cactuses and turned it around in his hand as he looked at it. It was plump and healthy, and obviously very well cared for.
Wrapping one of these in foil was a guaranteed way to really piss him off, especially since it would probably kill the cactus in the process.
Ozzy shook his head. Nah, that's one step too far, even for me.
Despite being very drunk and high on vengeance, he couldn't do something so cruel. The professor obviously had no actual friends or anyone to care for, which was probably why these cactuses were in such good condition.
Ozzy doubted he had managed to make any real connections with anyone during his time in Frank, and could just imagine him pouring all of his love into these little cactuses as a substitute for that.
He suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew he should probably stop here and leave his office tout suite, but he'd already gone this far, and it wouldn't feel right to leave a prank unfinished.
He placed the cactus back down exactly where he had found it and headed over to the shelves, thumbing through a few of his boring biology books, before proceeding to wrap everything he could in aluminium foil, until finally, he ran out.
He stepped back to admire his work and smiled to himself. It definitely wouldn't go down as one of his most ingenious pranks ever, but he knew it would be enough to get to the professor.
He squeezed his way out of the office again and ran as fast as his little, tipsy legs would carry him, laughing like a little kid on Christmas all the way down the corridor as he tried to imagine what Professor Roja's reaction would be on Monday morning.
Notes:
This chapter turned out to be way longer than I'd intended, but I had a lot of themes I wanted to explore with Ozzy before really getting into the plot.
Why oh why do I keep trying to write about things that I know nothing about? Biology?! Tennis?! Attending college in the USA?!
Also hehe I hope you're all enjoying my eye related puns for Cornea University~ there were way worse alternatives that got left in the first draft, I promise you.
Anyway, as always, thank you for reading so far!
