Chapter Text
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Peter groaned and smacked his hand down, maybe a little harder than he should have, onto his alarm clock. The bastard machine stopped its incessant bleating before toppling off his bedside table and onto the very hard, very loud floor. The day was already off to a great start.
Peter groaned again (groaning is oddly cathartic when you have to wake up at 5:30am every weekday) and shuffled out of bed, grabbing at the threadbare robe he kept on the back of his closet door like a goblin desperate for, well, whatever goblins are into these days. He grappled with the hook for a couple of seconds before giving up, yanking hard. The hook, which was only attached by a very old, gloopy glue dot anyway, launched towards his face. Peter ducked out of the way, and it landed on a pile of last week’s dirty laundry. Rubbing his face and letting out yet another defeated groan, Peter slipped into his crocs and trudged out of his bedroom.
“Mornin’, Tiger, you fighting a bull in there?” the redhead sat at possibly the world’s smallest kitchen table drawled.
“No, just wrestling with my will to live,” Peter deadpanned back, grabbing a mug from the top-right cupboard and filling it with coffee from the cafetiere that had pride place on the countertop. “One day, I may actually lose, MJ. I’m warning you now.”
MJ laughed, throwing her head back. “You’re such a grump. Got anything exciting planned for today?”
“Let’s see,” Peter leaned over to grab his glasses from the coffee table and pulled out an imaginary itinerary. “First period, periodic table pop quiz. Fun for me, not for the freshmen though, I guess. Second period, moles. Always a hoot. Third period, I’ll be contemplating why I allow high schoolers to play with dangerous science equipment. Fourth period, same thing. Do I learn nothing? Fifth period, however, is a glorious free hour, where I’ll probably spend the entire time printing out five thousand sheets of paper that’ll get used by this time tomorrow. God, I love my job.”
“Always positive, Pete.”
“You know it.”
Peter drank the last sip of his coffee then grabbed the cafetiere for a refill. As he drank his second cup of the morning, the big hand of the clock crawled past 6, and Peter got to listen to MJ’s planned day, which ranged from crafting snowmen out of empty toilet rolls, making hand-print dinosaurs, and planning a trip to the art museum. Why Peter decided to teach high school was a question he asked himself daily.
“Hey now. It’s not all fun and games. Yesterday, Franklin Richards drank paint to see if it would turn his pee red. I’m lucky his parents are super chill about these sorts of things.”
Peter decided it wasn’t the time to bring up that, just last week, one of his tenth graders had almost sipped hyaluronic acid whilst he was in the middle of a demonstration. He was protecting her from that knowledge, really.
-
It only took fourteen minutes on the subway for Peter to reach Midtown High. He’d been a student there, once upon a time, and after earning his teaching credentials, they had welcomed him back with open arms. Two years later, he was part of the woodwork (and even taught it occasionally).
Peter genuinely loved his job. It was hard work, but so worth it.
After he’d poured himself the largest cup of coffee in his comically sized ‘tears of my students’ mug, Peter walked out of the small staff kitchen and into the adjacent teacher’s lounge. He liked getting to school early; it was quiet and peaceful.
It also meant he could leave as soon as the bell rang at 3pm.
Setting his mug down on one of the coffee tables, Peter pulled his laptop out and switched it on. He only had two more papers to grade for his fifth period biology class, and damnit, he was determined to finish them. So engrossed in his computer, he hardly noticed the lounge door swing open. A tall man with immaculate, blond hair sidled past him and threw himself down on the empty chair beside him.
“Hey, man, how you doing?” the man swung round to face Peter.
“It’s 7am, I’ve been better,” Peter replied, entering a flurry of question marks at the bottom of the penultimate student’s God-awful paper.
“Hey, I feel that,” the blond replied. “I’m Johnny. I’m covering Phys Ed this semester.”
“Peter. Parker.”
“Nice to meet you. What do you teach?”
Peter silently pointed down at his periodic-table themed tie.
Johnny grinned. “Right. So, any first day tips?”
“Don’t small talk with teachers before they’ve had their morning coffee?” Peter quipped, before he could think. He watched Johnny’s face fall. “And don’t judge how rude they are when they’re knee deep in D grade papers from 11th graders? I’m sorry, that was really rude.”
“That’s ok. I’m so nervous.” Johnny ran his hands through his hair. It stayed perfectly upright.
“Don’t be,” Peter replied coolly. “The kids love Phys Ed. Mostly. More than AP Chemistry, I’m sure. The best advice I got on my first day is that it gets better. The kids, they don’t know you right now. They might not trust you. But they will. And that’s when it becomes the best job ever.”
“Hey, thanks man,” Johnny stood up. “That has actually made me feel better. Hey, I think I’m covering a couple of science lessons this afternoon – Dr Banner’s class? He’s out on a conference.”
“Wow,” Peter said. They were really throwing this guy in the deep end. “You got much experience with physics?”
Johnny scratched his head. “Well, my brother-in-law is, like, a really acclaimed theoretical physicist. But me? Not so much. If it all goes to shit, I’ll get him up on Facetime.”
Peter smirked. “Maybe you’ve absorbed some of his brains via osmosis.”
Johnny laughed. “I live with him and he doesn’t shut up. It’s definitely possible.”
“Hey,” Peter said, getting up from his seat and closing his laptop. “You know what osmosis is. You’re already doing better than most of the kids that are going to be in that class.”
The door opened again, and Matt and Jen, two of Midtown’s history teachers, walked in. As they began introducing themselves, Peter slipped away to his classroom.