I Wanna Be Your Backdoor Man || jimbert

Chapter 2: No Self-Preservation

He really should have expected this.

Failing, that is.

All that Sparknotes and chill could only get him a 68%. Which was way more than he usually scored, if he was being totally honest. Robert turned to say something to him and Jimmy practically crushed the thing and shoved it his jacket pocket. Hell, he would have shoved it in his mouth if all else failed. "Does she usually keep your papers?" He whispered, worrying his plush lower lip—not that Jimmy was looking or anything. "I mean, I know it's in her hand but she didn't give it back."

Bonzo was next to him snickering like the asshole he was while Jimmy tried frantically to formulate a response. "Uhm, don't worry, it's probably nothing."

Mrs. Whitley surveyed the classroom, "Well, I assume you all did your best on that test, and in happy to see some of you making improvements." She glanced pointedly in Jimmy's direction. "But I'd like to congratulate Robert for doing exceptionally well."

Robert's ears turned red that was probably because almost everyone had twisted in their seats to stare at him.

"Ninety-eight percent." Mrs. Whitley handed him his paper. "That's the highest I've ever gotten from my seniors in a while."

Oh great, he is so gonna be bullied and she's not helping. Jimmy thought to himself.

To his surprise, his classmates began to applaud, the longer it dragged on, the further Robert sunk into his chair.

So, Mrs. Whitley decided it was time to move on to the second textbook (and honestly Jimmy had no idea they were doing two—who wrote this fucking syllabus?), Richard III— how the fuck did three Richards tie in to his studies? She was droning on about good versus evil (wait, three evil clones of Richard?) when Jimmy's eyes begun to get heavy.

Apparently he slept through whatever else she had to say and came to with Bonzo shaking him roughly, waking him from his dream of three different Jimmy's.

"Ah, Jimmy." Mrs. Whitley was gazing at him from behind her desk, looking faintly amused. "I see you're back with us. See me after class, you too Robert."

Robert glanced over his shoulder at Jimmy whose dark hair was sticking in every direction, he couldn't help smiling. "You think we're in trouble?"

The brunette blinked sleepily at him, sluggish brain trying to absorb the fact that a literal angel in all its golden glory was attempting to communicate with him. He opened his mouth to ask as much when a meaty paw was pressed over it.

"I doubt it." Bonzo saved the day once again. Jimmy would have to thank him for that later, just as soon as he got the stench of peanut butter out his nose.

So that's how he wound up staring at his sneakers while standing next to Robert before her desk.

"Jimmy, I'm sure you're aware you got the lowest grade in the class." She said calmly, hands resting flat against the desk.

Robert shot him a confused glance and Jimmy averted his gaze—ah yes, it always came back to bite him in the ass. "Yup."

She sighed, looking heavenwards. "And Robert got the highest."

"You made that clear." Maybe he was being a bit bitchy to hide his mortification, but that was his own business.

She looked ready to maul him at any second, dragging in a shuddering breath, she continued. "So that gave me an idea, maybe Robert could tutor you, help you out with literature and—"

"That really won't be necessary." Robert looked a bit miffed, but Jimmy didn't care. He didn't need anyone's pity.

"Really Jimmy?" She leaned back in her chair, "You fail this class and you can't graduate. You'll probably have to re-sit the exam, which means class in summer."