John 8:32

6 - Proverbs 18:9

One who is slack in his work is brother to one who destroys.

It was Friday morning — the day they were supposed to present their projects. Damien got a text while he was sitting in class, waiting for it to start.

Spencer [7:43]

Yates.

Spencer [7:43]

Come to the bathrooms.

Spencer [7:43]

Please I need your help.

It was early for that. Damien supposed he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. So he stood up from his desk, and made his way over to the bathrooms by their classroom.

"What do you want?" Damien slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, "Class starts soon."

He was expecting Spencer to be — he didn't know what he was expecting. He wasn't expecting him to be standing there with his face buried in his phone.

"Dammit," Spencer cursed, finally looking up to Damien, "Thank God, Yates, can I use your phone?"

"What's wrong with your phone?"

"I have shitty service," Spencer grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket, "And I may or may not have forgotten to finish my slides."

"Spencer, oh my God," Damien groaned. He was definitely disappointed — but far from surprised. Spencer was a serial procrastinator.

"I planned them out at least!" Spencer argued, trying to make his case, "I just have to put them into the presentation, please?"

Damien supposed he didn't really care if Spencer used his phone. It was more the principle of it, but he also didn't want their presentation to suck. So he handed his phone off to Spencer, opening the slides app.

"Thank you so much," Spencer breathed a sigh of relief, pulling his own phone back out to reference his notes.

"If you make us late for class I'm taking your name off," Damien huffed, leaning against the wall as Spencer typed frantically with one hand.

"I won't make us late."

Spencer did make them late. Not by much, but Damien was hurrying into the classroom as the bell rang.

As if to make things worse, they were presenting first. Why? Because fate hated them, and Ms. Okazaki drew their organelles first.

"Mr. Yates, Mr. Morris," she called out, "You good to start us off?"

They weren't, but her question was rhetorical. It didn't actually matter if they were good to start them off.

They were given the endoplasmic reticulum. Damien had known this stuff since regular biology when they first covered it. His half of the project was to define terms and talk about the structure of the organelle. Spencer was in charge of explaining the function. Damien hadn't actually even seen Spencer's slides when they got up to the front of the classroom, so he just had to hope and pray that it would be fine.

Of course, it wasn't. Again — Damien was disappointed, but not particularly surprised. His half of the presentation went smoothly, there wasn't anything particularly difficult about the topic. There wasn't exactly anything difficult about Spencer's half either, but Spencer was Spencer. So he procrastinated and put it off, and now here he was.

Bumbling his way through the function of the endoplasmic reticulum.

When they returned to their seats, Spencer sat down with a heavy sigh, "That was a mess."

"Jeez, I wonder why," Damien deadpanned, gently kicking the legs of Spencer's desk.

"Hey, I got my slides done," Spencer argued, turning around in his desk to face Damien.

"Yeah, hardly," Damien huffed.

"Remind me again why you're the one who everybody thinks is a terrible influence?"

"Because you're daddy's precious little boy who can do no wrong," Damien scoffed, lowering his voice as the next people came up to present.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Shut up," Spencer finally shook his head, turning back around in his seat.

"Make me," the response was almost reflex at this point.