Work Text:
Mike sat on a chair in the principal's office, resolutely staring at anything BUT the stern looking man behind the desk as he dialed Mike's home number into the rotary. He barely processed the words the man was saying, all he could think about were the deep, scratchy tones barely audible over the staticky connection.
Dad answered the phone.
He could hear shouting from the phone, but the principal was calmly responding, though Mike could feel his glare on the top of his head as Mike picked at the bandages the school nurse had applied to his bleeding knuckles.
He was a goner. He might as well write his will now. To Liz, he bequeathed his Queen posters and his hidden stash of nail polish. She gave him most of it anyway. To Evan, he bestowed his beloved foxy plush, because he knew having that thing in his room would freak Evan out so bad-
He snapped out of his thoughts with the click of the receiver, staring wide eyed at the principal, who looked horribly, cruelly smug.
"Your father is on his way," he said, adjusting his glasses. In Mike's mind, his voice continued, "say your prayers, boy," though, whether his mind was using the principal's voice or Dad's, he couldn't even tell. Mike nodded mutely, back to picking at his bandages. The red beginning to bloom through the crisp white was fascinating.
Much, much less time passed than it typically took to get here from home when Dad stormed into the office, not even sparing Mike a passing glance as he stepped right in front of the principal’s desk and leaned over it, towering over the principal- not that that was hard for Dad to do, Mike thought, being giant as he was at six-foot-fucking-three- and hissed harsh words to the principal that Mike couldn’t hear.
The principal nodded, looking ashen, and Dad straightened up, adjusting his tie. He gestured for Mike to stand up, and Mike stood so fast he almost tripped over the backpack he’d left at his feet. He picked it up and scrambled next to Dad before he lost his patience, and Dad grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t worry, Principal Smith. He’ll be dealt with.” And he turned on his heel and dragged Mike out with him.
Mike didn’t dare make a sound the whole walk through the school, through the parking lot, not until Dad started speaking to him in the car, looking back at him in the rearview with stoney eyes. “You got in a fight, then?”
Open ended question. He wanted Mike to dig his own grave. “Yes, Father,” he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes on Dad’s, even as Dad looked back at the road. Dad hummed dismissively. Silence returned.
“Did you win?”
Huh-?
“Huh?”
“Did you win, Michael? From the look of you I’d say you fared pretty well. Not a scratch on you, besides that shit on your hands.”
“Uh- I guess- yeah-”
“Principal said you broke the brat’s nose. Who started it.”
Mike took a breath. “He- uh- he pulled Lizzie’s hair, called her ugly and tried to cut it off- pulled out scissors and everything- when I heard her scream I just lost it- uhm- the gym teacher had to pry me off of him-”
The car swerved, suddenly, and Mike noticed that Dad had turned the opposite direction from home. “...Dad?”
Dad didn’t say anything, but Mike could see his grip on the steering wheel was white, could almost hear the leather squeaking under the pressure. This was the perfect time to get some homework done, he thought, rifling through his bag for those math sheets he was gonna make some nerd do at lunch. Anything to make Dad a little less pissed.
And then the car stopped, and Mike looked out the window, right into the big bright sign of the ice cream shop. He glanced at Dad, who seemed to be doing breathing exercises, and then back out the window. Why on Earth-?
“Alright, come on. Out.” Dad said, somehow already out of the car and pulling Mike’s door open. “You look like a deer in headlights, boy, move it already.”
Mike climbed out slowly- what kind of weird punishment was this? Was Dad gonna get himself some ice cream and make Mike watch him eat it or what?
But no, Dad led Mike inside, and gave him a ten dollar bill. “Have at it,” he said, slapping Mike on the back.
What?
“Wh- I- huh?” He asked, oh so eloquently, awkwardly gripping the note and staring at Dad in bewilderment. Wasn’t he in trouble? What kind of prank was this?
Dad kneeled in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You did good, Michael, you hear me? You were protecting your sister. Family is the most important thing on this planet. You always protect your family, no matter who else might get hurt on the way. Keep that mentality with you for the rest of your life, you hear me?”
And suddenly, the cold, scary Dad was back as he stood up, rooting through his pockets for a cigarette, “Now go buy some ice cream, I need a smoke. And not a word of this to your mother or she’ll ream the two of us, and the poor fucker that started it.”