for not getting fired
Roger Harrington bit back a groan of frustration.
Yes, he supported the kids and their agenda to get them banned from field trips. Yes, he knew about that, they were all terrible at remembering he was in the Decathlon group chat. Yes, he knew that to get banned they would naturally have to behave terribly.
But was it just his fate to be caught in the crossfire?
First, they had all handed in torn, mangled, and even a few suspicious-smelling permission slips (Peter’s might have been covered in blood, and Abe’s smelled highly of dog pee) the day after they were due, Then, when he had finally submitted the necessary forms and paperwork to Stark Industries, where he’d been wanting to go for ages, it turned out that Peter hadn’t been lying.
He really had been blacklisted by every Stark Industries building. Which, what the fuck? The kid was 16. He couldn’t even pass gym, let alone pose an actual threat to a multi-million company.
So he had sent back a politely worded email, put on his Time-To-Be-An-Adult pants, and asked them why Peter had been banned. Of course, somehow, the actual Head Of Security got roped into the mess, some guy called Harold, who took one look at the kid’s proof of identity picture and overrode the actual coding of the building to let him in.
What the fuck Parker?
He didn’t open the group chat for plausible deniability, but at this point, he was really wishing he had, because every single one of his hellions was actively trying to make his difficult, and having even the teensiest forewarning would have been a blessing.
All of them arrived ten to fifteen minutes late to the bus. The only one even vaguely apologetic was Peter, the rest just glared at him like he was personally responsible for every single disaster and alien attack on Planet Earth.
On the bus ride over, they’d all decided that yes, let’s all vent out all our frustrations by screaming and throwing things around, and somehow break a 2-inch thick glass window. Let’s do it in such a way and with such hullabaloo that some concerned citizen calls the police. Let’s all get pulled over and be even later for a scheduled trip to the most prestigious company in the world.
Rascals, the lot of them.
If anyone ever asked him, he would deny it vehemently, but he was a little scared of them. Once they arrived at the parking lot, it was like a switch had been flipped. Gone were the chaotic, playful children and there stood emotionless warriors. All emotion had been wiped off their faces, leaving behind a mix of serious determination and barely concealed disdain.
He knew they held a grudge and fully agreed, but it was terrifying how quickly they could all turn off their emotions. It wasn’t even just them, it was every single teenager.
Was he supposed to get them therapy or something?
They’d been through a lot right? Aliens, deadly field trips, near-death experiences every other week, the villains that all somehow only attacked New York, the fact that most of them belonged to highly marginalized or discriminated-against groups?
Oh.
Oh no, he mourned.
He was going to have to fight the entire school system to get them therapy, wasn't he? Well, that was a problem for Future Roger. Current Roger needed to not get fired once this trainwreck was over.
Which was going to be very hard. The kids walked, nay marched to the lobby, faces set in stone, calm in the face of danger as they risked their entire futures to do the right thing for a single instance, to stand up for what was right against what was easy. He was proud of them, scared of them, scared for them, and mostly just stressed about them.
Okay. Deep breaths Roger. You've got this.
So far so good. The smartest AI in the world didn't extend to the lobby apparently. Nobody had been called out as banned, no one had started a fire, and there had been no nervous breakdowns of hard-working employees.
They walked to the receptionist (her name badge said Leah: she/her) and politely waited while she argued with some sleazy asshole. Gosh. At least his hellions had the good sense not to antagonize people just doing their jobs and were glaring at said asshole.
Peter had a very strange expression on his face. It looked like a mix of resignation, exhaustion and irritation, like he knew everything was going to go wrong but was going to do it anyway. Good for him.
The kid pasted a smile on his face and cut in, "Hi Leah!"
"Peter! It's been so long since I've seen you! You haven't been coming by as often, is everything fine?"
Peter hesitated. Don't do it Parker, don't say it.
"Oh, uh, I got banned," he grimaced.
Dammit.
"You? No way! I thought that was a bug or something! Why on earth would Friday ban you, Kid Wonder, Sunshine Boy, intern to-"
Peter cut her off with wildly exaggerated gestures. Way to be subtle, kid. Even Mr. Asshole looked interested in him now.
Peter's gesticulation had also caught the eye of a security guard hovering nearby. The man drew closer.
"This Peter Parker? He's a problem with the code. Mr. Hogan told me to make sure he makes it past security."
He was also muttering to himself. "What the fuck man. Why is it always me who has to get the anomalies? Last time it was that demented clown fucker. Why the fuck is the anomaly a kid. What the fuck is wrong with this place."
Roger probably wasn't supposed to hear.
Anyways.
Leah handed over a bunch of ID cards, with all his kids' names, and one singular, bright pink, hello-kitty ID card.
Take a fucking guess whom that was for.
Peter Fucking Parker.
He distributed them amongst the kids and handed The Kid the pink one. Peter wasn't even surprised. Roger was too tired and confused to be anything other than done with this shit. The field trip hadn't even started.
Walking through Security was one hell of a trip. The sheer amount of tech, the multiple body-and-baggage checks, the gleaming metal frames, and most fancily, an Artificial Intelligence, monitoring all the comings and goings along with the million other things it was probably doing simultaneously. Cool.
Of course, Eugene had to be caught with a recording device, Abe obviously needed to carry a knife (what?), Cindy was somehow in the possession of bullets, and Ned had a jar of concentrated sulfuric acid stolen directly from the chemistry lab.
The guards gave them some serious side-eye as they passed through one by one, each student having something or the other that was most definitely banned, or just straight up weird.
Then came the finale, the moment they had all been waiting for. Peter had been exempt from the body and bag scans for some reason he wasn’t going to look into for his own sanity. He walked bravely forward.
Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, Roger thought, into the valley of Death.
He took a step. Another. Then, with great trepidation, he walked over the boundary line.
“Good Morning Peter, Boss has been expecting you.”
Fucking Peter Parker.