Work Text:
The sound of pencil on paper filled Jerry’s living room as he and The Goober worked on assignments. The Goober and Jerry shared the couch, although on opposite ends. Renault only used his notebook as support as he translated DNA—mRNA—Amino acids, while The Goober used a corresponding textbook to conjugate stem-changing verbs.
“Yo pienso que el béisbol tiene muchos juegos.”
“What does that mean?” As the two talked, their eyes focused only on their worksheets.
“It means ‘I think that baseball has a ton of games.” Jerry nodded, his lips pursed at the lost strand of DNA he was on.
“Yo pienso que la biology is too hard,” he grumbled, matching AAU to its original TTA with his finger.
“Yo pienso que tú eres hard.” The Goober’s implication transcended language and shook Jerry. Only for a moment, as the other began to laugh a bit.
“Sí, estoy hard.” Jerry joked, grinning as he remembered a little bit of what his buddy had taught him.
“Yo quiero ver.”
“What does 'ver'” mean?”
“It means to see. So in a sentence it could be: ‘Yo veo el gato’, ‘Ella ve los pantalones’, ‘Nosotros vemos el perro.”
“Oh,” he hummed, the sound of his discovery elongated. He laughed some more as he caught on to what The Goober had said. The moment ended quickly as Jerry sighed quietly, and the sound of a pencil writing filled the air once more. It signaled Goober back to incomplete sentences.
“¿Juegas al fútbol con tus amigos? A mi amigo no le gusta el fútbol. Gustan hombres y pitos.” He followed along the chapter’s pages to which Brother Thomas assigned. He took advantage of Jerry no longer asking for translations. “Y yo pienso a veces que se mira como una niña muy bonita.” The apple of the Goober’s throat bobbed while he twirled his pencil against his worksheet. “Sus ojos tienen un color que me gusta.” The chapter focused on sports, but how would Jerry know? “Do you like genetics?”
“We’re still on mRNA in my class.”
“Oh,” Goober murmured, he picked at the dry skin on his lips. “I was going to ask: if I were to have children, would the color of my eyes pass to them?”
“Doesn’t it depend on which is dominant and recessive?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” he paused, doodling a spiral on the tab of his page. “But are green eyes dominant or recessive?” Jerry shrugged earnestly.
“I’m pretty sure they’re recessive.”
“How can you be sure?” The Goober questioned, tilting his head at Jerry. His gaze left his Spanish work.
“Just take my fuckin answer, I don’t know, Goob.”
“Why are we both dimwits?”
“You ask me like I know.” Jerry shook his head, his eyes rolled over to the side, but of course, it was mainly out of pettiness. Who asks questions about genetics to someone who hasn’t learnt it. Another sigh passed Jerry’s lips from his irritated reaction. “Sorry Goob… being questioned about what I know is annoying.” Jerry set his notebook onto the coffee table beside the couch, his hands drew back to his lap.
“We think too much.” Goober had already taken Jerry’s earlier answer but saw from the corner of his eye that his buddy began to stare at him. He took bait and watched Jerry’s lips as he spoke. “The other day, I was thinking about how I watch legal shows or Eddie Capra more than I watch cop shows. I know why, of course.” The last bits of his speech were mumbled, all the while he gestured vaguely towards his face and hair. “But, why do I still watch legal stuff when the justice system and the feds are in the same branch?”
“I think court stuff is a little nicer than cops.” Goober attempted honestly.
“It really isn’t,” He argued softly, tugging on a curl. straightening it in the process. He glanced away from him with a longing look which The Goober wouldn’t try to decipher beyond no longer having the desire to do homework.