Chapter Text
In Reilly’s eyes, he’s not a troublemaker. Sure, he has the entire Captain America ‘so you got detention’ video memorized and gets into fights on a regular basis and consistently skips school and maybe falls asleep in class and hardly bothers to turn in his homework. But he doesn’t cause problems on purpose.
“I don’t make the trouble,” he tells the little group of awed and probably slightly intimidated freshmen gathered around him at the back of Mr. Parker’s class, “it just comes to me.”
“That’s such bull,” Toby says. “I’ve known you since 5th-grade dude, you’re like the world's biggest troublemaker.”
“Don’t you have the record for most fights?” Mohammed whispers excitedly.
“Yea, y-you and that Warren guy,” Faith also says under her breath.
“Why are we whispering?” Kitty whisper-yells. “Is this some sort of secret? I thought you’re delinquency was common knowledge.”
Reilly gives them all a look and sits back in his seat. “It’s not a secret and I’m not a delinquent.”
“No, you just constantly skip class and get into fights and always get suspended for fun.”
“But I’ve never failed a class,” he points out and it’s true. He does just good enough in school that they can’t kick him out and considering the classes are beyond easy even though the Visions Academy is supposed to be a prep school, he’s not too worried about failing if he misses a lesson or skips out on studying.
So, he does just that. “And isn’t that our teachers only concern? That their test scores are high enough. They could care less about what I do outside of that.”
Toby snorts and taps the desk. “Except Mr. Parker cares.”
“I doubt that.”
Toby raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
Reilly frowns and is about to respond just as the door opens, 13 minutes after the late bell rang, and Mr. Parker stumbles into the room, all breathless and grins and with a possible black eye.
“Sorry I’m late, you wouldn’t believe what happened. There just happened to be a small-scale alien invasion on the street of my favorite deli so my order got held up, and then…” Mr. Parker huffs and runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it but failing spectacularly. “I swear I don’t actually make trouble, it just… comes to me.”
Reilly leans forward in his seat and ignores the stares of the little group. “That’s what I just said.”
“That’s what he just said,” Faith echoes.
“Ok, um, let’s get started with the lesson since I’m mega late.”
“Again,” Kitty helpfully calls out.
“Again. Ok, so balancing equations, there are three rules,” Mr. Parker says to the class right before he drops the expo marker that just ran dry into the trash and proceeds to try every single other marker he has that are all also, coincidentally, dry. He eventually gives up and uses a sharpie. “The first is to write the unbalanced equation and identify what needs to be changed.”
Ok, don’t attack Reilly for this, but — unlike the rest of his class — he’s not head over heels in love with Mr. Parker. Don’t get him wrong, he likes the guy. He’s a cool teacher and the times he does teach, it doesn’t feel like they’re being taught. It just feels like… learning, if that makes any sense.
But, to kind of answer Toby’s question, the ‘why’, Reilly’s never been one to get attached to teachers. Ever. He’s had plenty of ok teachers, even some good ones, never great. They teach, he absorbs the information, then regurgitates it and gets an A and that’s that.
He can get suspended for 3 days, show up looking like he just ran several marathons for his life, and the biggest reaction that’ll get out of any of his teachers is a raised, curious eyebrow, a quick ‘do you need to go to the clinic’ when he falls asleep in class, and maybe a stern talking to about his future if he really doesn’t feel like faking like he’s paying attention that day.
Which is fine. He doesn’t need the attention, he’s a senior anyway he’ll be gone in a couple of months. So he doesn’t see why Mr. Parker would be any different, even if he’s practically married to chemistry and always seems like he’s actually listening whenever one of his students talk and had all of their names memorized by the second day-
Anyway. Reilly’s reluctant. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll just end up disappointing Mr. Parker anyway, either by not doing as well on a quiz or the teacher catches wind of his less than stellar behavior and more than spotty record, and every time he walks into class he’ll give Reilly that look. And one cut class turns into two or three and then he never sees Mr. Parker again outside of the glimpses he gets the few times he’ll choose to show up to class.
So yea, Reilly’s not attached, not getting attached, and will not make plans for it. His schedule is already full enough with more potential fights because Warren is an ass who doesn’t know when to shut up and his job and making sure his sister doesn’t skip dinner so he can eat.
But, Mr. Parker doesn’t make it easy.
He starts worming his way into Reilly’s heart on a Tuesday at 11:25 am, of all days and times.
It starts in the office, as all great stories do, with Reilly sitting next to Warren who’s got a bloody, probably broken nose and a pathetic looking face while Reilly sits looking pretty, only a small bruise on his chin to tell the tale of his battle with the asshat who’s got a stupid name and stupider personality.
Reilly’s sitting, waiting as he has been for the past like 30 minutes, staring down any rubber necking students who dare glance his way because he’s got a reputation to uphold, when the door swings open for the 13th time, Reilly’s counted, and Mr. Parker walks in.
He pauses to quirk an eyebrow at him, to which Reilly simply shrugs, then glances at the other kid, drops off his papers at the desk before walking down the hall and into the principal’s office. He comes back out after almost half an hour and gestures at the door before saying to Reilly, “Come with me.”
Reilly, still thrumming with adrenaline and a little bit of anger from the fight he just finished, narrows his eyes suspiciously and asks “why?”
“Because lunch starts in,” he looks at his watch, “5 minutes, and I’ve got an extra sandwich I figured you might want a head start on.”
Ah. Food, the great motivator. Mr. Parker clearly knows his tactic is working because he smirks and Reilly is helpless to do anything but stand and follow dutifully, after shooting Warren a death glare of course.
3 minutes later, they’re both seated in Mr. Parker’s class, sandwiches unwrapped before them and already eating.
“Saw the other guy,” Mr. Parker starts around his food, “at least you didn’t lose.”
Reilly furrows his eyebrows. “I feel like you’re supposed to be disciplining me.”
“Discipline, smiscipline. I think you’ve had enough of that to last you multiple school careers. And we both know that’s not the answer.” The printer starts up, slowly spewing out sheets of paper. “Who started it? And don’t say you because that’s a blatant lie.”
Damn, he’s good. Time to go on the offensive. Reilly takes a bite of the sandwich. “This kind of slaps.”
Mr. Parker scoffs. “Kind of? These are the best sandwiches in Queens, possibly in all of New York, definitely the world. There is no kind of.”
“I didn’t take you for a sandwich connoisseur, Mr. Parker.”
“And I didn’t take you for an issue avoider, Mr. O’Reilly Autoparts.”
Reilly gives him the most unimpressed look possible, which is a bit difficult to maintain when Mr. Parker throws his head back laughing and has to physically wipe his eyes.
“You really find yourself funny.”
“I do. Answer the question.”
He sighs. “Warren makes it a habit of pushing just how much shit- uh trash he can talk.”
“And I’m guessing it’s not about you.”
Reilly exhales sharply and takes another bite. “I think your printer is done.”
“Oh perfect.” Mr. Parker gets up and grabs the stack of papers, flipping through them. “I think you should take up boxing.”
“Boxing?”
“Or any sport really. Just something to work off some of that anger after school, since you don’t really have an outlet here except for, well, fighting.” He pauses and gives Reilly a significant look. “Take it from me. I get it.”
Reilly highly doubts that. “Do you?”
“More than you know. Here.” He drops the stack onto the desk.
Reilly reads the first page, which is an English assignment he missed last week and didn’t bother making up because the teacher refused to let him turn it in. “This is…?”
“Makeup work from all the days you missed or skipped or etc.”
“But… I can’t turn these in. I already asked.”
Mr. Parker points at him. “Keyword, you asked. This time I did.” He winks and folds his arms. “It was a hard sell to the principal, and your other teachers who would really rather fail you than help you succeed which is kind of ridiculous but, anyway. You’ll have a few weeks to make those up, but I know it won’t take you that long.”
“I… really?”
Mr. Parker gives him a funny smile, a little too understanding. “You, really.”
Reilly chews on his lip and grins. “Thank you, Mr. Parker.”
“You can thank me by staying out of trouble and finishing your sandwich, which you’ve got 10 minutes to do. And I hate food going to waste.”
Reilly huffs and before he eats, says, “I will.”
“The second rule,” Mr. Parker pauses to cap his sharpie and switch it out for a different color, “is to actually, you know, balance the equation. Make sure there’s the same number of atoms of each element on both sides.”
Mr. Parker and Reilly stand side by side at the front of the classroom, which is filled with all of his 7th period AP Chemistry students, chatting and eating. Because it’s lunch. They are all eating lunch in Mr. Parker’s classroom.
“How… did this happen?” Mr. Parker breathes.
Reilly turns to him and says, “this is your fault.”
Which might be a little unfair, but it’s mostly Mr. Parker’s fault. He is the one who invited Reilly to eat in his room every lunch, which was initially just to keep him out of trouble but then he started doing the makeup work and blew through that, then moved on to future assignments then they started discussing colleges. Then one lunch he decided to follow Toby to the lunchroom instead…
Mr. Parker sighs deeply when he sees Reilly sitting next to Toby, who are both glaring at a battered Warren seated across from them. Another 45 minute trip to the principal's office later, Mr. Parker walks up to them, looking way too tired but still slightly pleased, said “come with me.”
…and their little lunch for two became a meal for three.
“Good thing I always carry three sandwiches with me,” Mr. Parker says proudly as he hands Toby said third sandwich, which the kid takes reverently.
Reilly stares at the bottomless bag suspiciously, the theories the class developed in their group chat churning through his mind. “Why do I have the feeling that you carry more?”
Mr. Parker smirks deviously. “It’s not a feeling, Reilly, if it’s right.”
Reilly shivers and for a few weeks, the three of them eat their lunches in relative peace.
Until the other fight—
“You’re the reason your mom died!” Warren yells and Reilly doesn’t even realize his fist was flying toward the bastard's face until it’s stopped in midair by another hand.
“M-Mr. Parker!?” Mohammed says from the small crowd that’d gathered around the fight.
Mr. Parker grins over at him, said “hey everyone,” then grabs both Warren and Reilly by their backpacks and easily lifts them off the ground, and shakes his head.
“You know Warren, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I you’re kind of beyond that at the moment.” Mr. Parker exhales sharply then looks over at Reilly. “And I thought I told you to stay out of trouble, what happened to that”
Reilly bows his head and stares at the ground he’s floating over. “…sorry.”
There’s a beat of silence before Mr. Parker says, “don’t be. I get it.”
“Mr. Park-“
“Kid.” It’s gentle, the way he cuts him off. He sets Reilly down and gives him a lopsided smile. “I promise, I get it.” He looks over at Warren, still struggling in Mr. Parker’s grasp, and hums. “I think at least several weeks worth of detentions is a fair punishment for you.”
“He was about to hit me!” Warren exclaims.
”You know there is a rule in the Student Handbook about instigating fights using abusive or provocative language. But, you don’t have to take it from me, we can go talk to the principal instead and see what she thinks.” He watches Warren’s face pale and tilts his head back to Reilly. “And as for you, I thought I told you to eat lunch in my room.”
”What, you’re my prison warden?”
He laughs. “You figured me out.” He sets Warren down and addresses the crowd. “Keep eating people, I’m just taking this delinquent to serve his prison time, nothing to see here.”
“What about me?” Toby yells from somewhere in the crowd.
“You too, accomplice, let’s go.”
“Wait,” Anya calls out before they leave the lunchroom, surrounded by curious classmates, “can… we also come?”
—and suddenly, Mr. Parker and Reilly’s little ritual became a class ritual, and here they are, standing at the front of a class wondering,
“Where did it all go right?” Mr. Parker says dreamily, eyes sparkling.
Reilly makes a face. “I think you mean wrong.”
“I mean what I say, O’Reilly.”
Reilly scoffs, then softens a little. “Do you really mean that?”
Mr. Parker tilts his head towards him and raises an eyebrow. “Duh.”
And ok, maybe Reilly is definitely now in love with Mr. Parker. Sue him.
“Rule three is to indicate the state of matter and write that out. Then bam!“ Mr. Parker taps his sharpie on the board beside the list of rules and smiles at the class. “Balanced equation, happy trails.”
He knocks on the door and waits for Mr. Parker to look up from his lunch and open, rocking from foot to foot and trying to not look as anxious as he feels.
“Hey Reilly,” Mr. Parker greets with a slightly confused grin, “what’s up?”
“Just,” his fingers twitch, he flexes his hand, “staying out of trouble.”
Mr. Parker’s gaze flicks down to his fist, then something familiar flashes across his face as he opens the door wider and moves aside for Reilly to walk in. He takes a deep breath, then steps.
“No look, because I’m not about to get into an actual fistfight with you over this,” Faith starts with righteous fury that Reilly honestly never suspected of her, “Spider-Man is literally the embodiment of what it means to be a hero, and he could for sure destroy any Avenger or whatever.”
“And what I’m saying,” Ganke counters, “is that he can’t be trusted. I mean, the guy was accused of murder a few years back, and I heard he stole some guy’s pizza.”
”So what’s your point?”
”He would lose in a fight against Captain America.”
“Oh, it’s over-“ Faith lunges forward at the same time Ganke does and the other students closest to them literally have to hold them back, taking about 6 total people to stop the fight while Mr. Parker just laughs.
“Uh, teach’,” Toby starts warily, “I feel like you should be discouraging this?”
Mr. Parker blinks and sits up and says in his most teacher voice possible, “no fighting, don’t make me add it to my class rules.”
“Isn’t that covered under the extremely suspicious ‘no vigilantism’ rule?” Reilly asks without looking up from where he’s editing his essay.
Mr. Parker gasps and points at Reilly. “That’s why you are my favorite student named Reilly.”
“Isn’t he your only student named Reilly?” June asks.
“Exactly. Guys, it’s lunch, can we focus on eating instead of practicing our fighting techniques? Because, if I’m being honest,” Mr. Parker takes a huge bite of his sandwich and swallows, “you all would lose in an actual street fight.”
That elicits the chorus of indignant yells Reilly knows Mr. Parker was looking for, and when he makes eye contact with the teacher, the man winks and continues eating his lunch in peace. Reilly rolls his eyes.
He finishes his essay and puts the laptop on Mr. Parker’s desk and waits for him to read it while he busies himself by eating his sandwich and chatting with his classmates and doing everything but looking at Mr. Parker’s reaction even though he can see the man’s expression change from the corner of his eye because the guy wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s ridiculous and oh god Reilly is going to explode.
He’s halfway through his sandwich and an intense debate about which teacher — barring Mr. Parker of course — is the best when their teacher abruptly stands from his seat, buries his face in his hands, and sprints out the room, presumably crying judging by the sniffling and light sobs coming from him on his way out.
The class waits in a relatively awkward, stunned silence for a moment before they descend on Reilly like hawks.
“What the hell did you do to him?!”
“You broke Mr. Parker!”
“I want this guy's head!”
Reilly throws his hands up in surrender. “I just showed him my college essay! I didn’t think it was that sad.”
Kitty points at Reilly and glares with ferocity. “You and I will be having words, mister.”
Once their kind of justified attack dies down, Reilly notices his phone is buzzing with email notifications. He unlocks it and reads.
From: [email protected]
Subject: College Essay
Hey, I know I just ran out of the room, maybe crying maybe not I’ll leave that up to you, but I wanted to scream about how amazing your essay is. Seriously, I don’t think this email can express how good it is. I wish I could meet your mom, I want to meet your sister. Actually, I think I might call her. You know what, I will. I need her to know how great you are.
Reilly makes sure no one is looking and types away.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re College Essay
Mr. Parker, thank you so much for the praise. But please do not call my sister. I might die of embarrassment if you do. Thank you again for reading my essay, my mom would’ve loved you.
From: [email protected]
Subject: ReRe College Essay
It’s too late, I’ve already scheduled a phone conference. I’m telling her you’re going to ESU.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re^3 College Essay
I think ESU is a stretch, Mr. Parker. I’m not sure they’d accept me with my record.
From: [email protected]
Subject: ReReRe… how many re’s? College Essay
They will. They have to. Trust me on this one, ok?
Reilly groans and covers his eyes, but doesn’t bother hiding his smile.
From: [email protected]
Subject: So many re’s College Essay
Ok, I will.