Learn Me

Tony doesn’t notice the new kid at first. It’s always hectic in those first few days at school, students changing their electives and timetable mistakes and struggling to remember the names of three hundred new pupils. Tony is up to his balls in paperwork, desperately trying to keep on top of his lesson plans and in between helping freshmen find their classes and catching up with his fellow teachers, he doesn’t have much time to himself. In fact, the first time he sees the kid is about five minutes before he’s set to teach advanced physics to a bunch of seniors.

Actually, the most accurate term would probably be ‘smell’, since Tony smells him before he sees him. He’s minding his own business, carving a route for himself through the throng of confused students and hauling along what feels like a truckload of new exercise books when he’s hit with a scent so strong it stops him in his tracks and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It’s indescribable, Tony decides, a rich mix of spice and sweetness and something earthy and primal. Tony has always been told that he’ll just instinctively know when he smells his mate and he’s always scoffed at anyone who’s told him that, but it really is true. There’s no other explanation for the way his mouth fills with saliva and his whole body tingles with the need to claim.

Worryingly the scent leads him to his classroom where his new class is already seated with their equipment laid out neatly on the desk— not that Tony is capable of worrying at the moment. All he’s capable of doing is following that enticing smell and focusing on keeping his dick down in a room full of eighteen year olds. He isn’t sure whether it makes it worse, Tony thinks, that these eighteen year olds all seem to be the studious type, with their notebooks already open in front of them and their pens hovering a hairbreadth above the page, waiting from him to give them instructions. Maybe it would have been better if his Mate was a stoner or a jock, someone who wasn’t so… innocent.

Perhaps a cruel generalisation, Tony agrees, but he doubts anyone taking advanced physics is going to be winning any popularity contests any time soon. 

“Hello all,” Tony mutters, pushing his satchel off his shoulder and thumping the box of books down on the nearest table to him. Surreptitiously he inhales, hovering over his stack of books for a little longer than necessary under the pretence of making sure the stack doesn’t topple over, breathing in the scent of the nearest pupil. All he smells is overpowering body spray and hints of teenage BO.

“I’m Mr Stark, I’ll be teaching you physics for this semester. You’re all adults now, so I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not going to baby you or sugarcoat this for you. This class is going to be tough. This class,” Tony finishes scribbling his name onto the whiteboard with his barely legible handwriting and turns to face his students. They’re all watching, enraptured, like he’s moved from introductions to particle physics already. 

“This class is probably gonna make you want to kill yourselves. A lot of you are going to drop out in this first week, even more of you will leave before finals. But I promise you: if you stay, if you’re willing to work hard, I promise you will pass the exam.” Tony gazes around the room of teenagers and his eyes catch sight of one boy sticking gum, painfully unsubtle, to the underside of the desk. Tony aims the pen at him and smirks in satisfaction as it strikes his desk and bounces, inches from his face. 

“And if I ever see you messing up my classroom again, you will be spending your evenings scrubbing every surface in here. Am I understood?”

This, Tony knows, is why he has a reputation of the hard-ass teacher. He has the highest pass rate of the department but he also has the biggest number of students who hate his guts. Whatever, it’s not like Tony cares what a bunch of kids think of him. He’s not there to make them like him, he’s there to make sure they pass their finals and get into whatever college they’re aiming for. He doesn’t need them to like him at all. Except…

Except his Mate. His Mate is in this class, and here Tony is acting like the teacher from everybody’s worst nightmare. In all seriousness Tony doesn’t give a fuck about what his students think of him but this is his Mate. They have to like him, which means Tony needs to make them like him, which means maybe Tony ought to act a little kinder to his petrified pupils.

He sighs heavily and turns to the boy with the gum. He’s sitting ramrod straight in his chair looking like he just shit his pants. He’ll be the first to drop out, Tony bets, but for right now he should probably apologise for almost blinding the kid. His eyes rake over the class once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever that intoxicating smell is coming from. He sees a few familiar faces, people he taught last year or siblings of his previous students, but a few people are new students having only started this semester. 

His gaze catches on one particular student in the corner - one he doesn’t recognise - whose eyes are trained on Tony, wide and sort of terrified. Omega, is the first thought to enter Tony’s head. Mate, is the second.

He looks young with his baby face and wide, wide eyes. Hazel, Tony decides, big and pretty and somewhere in the middle between brown and green. His eyelashes are long, fanning over his cheek and his nose flicks upwards just slightly at the tip, giving him an impish, innocent vibe. His hair falls in tufts over his forehead, roughly separated in the middle like he didn’t have time to run a comb through it this morning. The kid appears to be swamped in a baggy black hoodie, but Tony draws the line at ducking his head under the table to see what trousers he’s wearing. He’d probably be fired within the hour.

This is him, Tony is certain. His Mate. His omega. The person he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with— his student. This is fucked up for sure; Tony isn’t sure he’s ever heard of a situation like this before, except maybe in porn but that didn’t have the same implications that this has. What does Tony do? Does he tell someone? Does he approach the kid about this? Tony knows that imprinting doesn’t work the same way with omegas as it does with Alphas: where Tony realised within the first few seconds of being close to the kid that they were Mates, the kid will almost certainly take longer to figure it out. It’s one of those things within biology that has never been properly explained but seems to be a universally understood fact all the same.

This kid could spend all semester in Tony’s class but, if Tony doesn’t do anything to get close to the boy, he could leave never knowing that he was right next to his Mate the whole time. Such is the disadvantage of being an omega, Tony grumbles to himself. He really doesn’t know what to do. There’s a string of fascination drawing him closer and closer to this kid, with his big eyes and floppy hair and plush pink lips. Tony needs to know more about him, needs to bond with him, but if he doesn’t even realise that Tony is hit Mate, there’s no chance he’ll allow Tony to get close.

“Listen guys,” Tony chokes out, forcing his eyes away from his omega so that he’s addressing the whole class. Some of the, look like they’re about to bolt already. “I don’t want to scare you. I just don’t want you to start a class with unrealistic expectations, waste your own time and effort only to realise it’s not for you and quit half way through the course. If I can spare you that hassle then I will. But I gotta know, if you stay, you can’t be wasting my time either. So, are we all clear on that?”

A handful of nods and a general mumble of assent ripple through the class, everyone sounding drearily unenthusiastic. Tony can’t help himself, can’t resist one last look over at his Mate, and when he does he’s unreasonably surprised to find the boy staring right back at him. Considering he’s the teacher and he just asked them all a question he shouldn’t really be shocked but he can’t help the shocked thrill that zips up his spine at being the centre of the boy’s attention. He looks away instantly, cheeks blazing.

“Right,” he mumbles, stumbling over to sit behind his desk and pull up registration. It’s a fairly small class and most people he already knows: it wouldn’t take long to figure out who his mystery Mate is. Unfortunately though he has a class to teach, and as much as he wants to he can’t just ditch them to find out about the teenage boy he’s going to be having wet dreams about for potentially the rest of his life.

“You can all relax, forget about that introductory bullshit.” Tony reassures them, conscious of how nerve wracking it can be to have to introduce yourself to a group of random people. His own battered anxiety couldn’t take that if he wasn’t popping a Xanax every few days. “I’ll role call and everyone can say yes when I get to their name. After that we’re getting straight on with the syllabus. We really don’t have much time to lose, guys, the faster we get this done the more time you’ll have left to study at the end of the semester.” 

Most people he already knows. They say their name quickly as though they just want to get it over with, and remembering the way Tony taught his classes last year he doesn’t blame them. A few are new though and Tony waits avidly to hear a voice stand out to him in the way that his Mate’s scent and appearance did.

It comes near the end of the register, when Tony is getting fidgety and desperate. He doesn’t know how much of his uneasiness is transferred into his voice but as soon as he calls out the name Peter Parker, gets a muffled, “yes sir,” in return, it all melts away. His omega’s voice is soft and melodic, a lilting passion to it that simultaneously melts Tony’s heart and gets his dick hard. He wants to hear Peter recite love poetry to him just as much as he wants to hear the boy moan.

And his name: it’s just so perfect! Peter Parker. Not too fancy, not too showy. Simple, traditional and beautiful, just like the boy himself. The more Tony thinks about him the harder it becomes to concentrate on anything else and if he isn’t careful he’s going to be hiding an erection under his desk on the first day back at school.

“Okay,” Tony says finally. “A lot of you I already know but for those of you I don’t I hope you don’t mind if I just come round and have a quick chat with you. No pressure, just want to get to know you a little. For the rest of you, please come and collect a worksheet and complete that for the end of the lesson.”

Tony really couldn’t give less of a fuck about getting the know the other students. It’s rash enough as it is to try and teach a class with his unclaimed Mate sitting a few feet away looking so delectable, but it’s another thing entirely to invent new and unexpected lesson plans because of him for the sole purpose of getting closer to him. Talking to him. Maybe even getting to scent him…

The clamour of everybody suddenly getting out of their seats startles Tony out of what most definitely would have been an inappropriate fantasy about a student. He walks stiffly to the other side of the room to start talking to his other students first: he knows that if he starts talking to Peter he likely won’t be able to stop, and it would look a little suspicious is, after deciding to have a quick talk with everybody, he spent the entire lesson focused on one person. This way he can talk for as long as he likes to Peter, provided the student has a study period next.

Tony briefly considers finding the boy’s class schedule online and then decides against it. There’s no need to speed up the process of obsession, he decides.

All throughout the lesson Tony feels like he’s being tortured by a roomful of teenagers, all intent to make his life miserable. After two or three minutes getting to know each boring adolescent Tony is ready to tear his own hair out. This is not what he signed up for - he’s only here every day to teach physics - but then he supposes he didn’t sign up for meeting his soulmate on two different spectrum of the classroom either so today is full of surprises.

By the time he gets to Peter, Tony is so wound up he feels like he’s either about to come or fall apart. His Mate is even more beautiful up close and the smell is so intense in such a small range that Tony feels drunk on it. He comes up behind Peter and, as he’s dragging up a spare chair, he can’t help but lean in closer and inhale deeply around the back of the kid’s neck. His cock throbs.

“Hey,” Tony greets him, hoping he doesn’t sound as stressed out as he feels. “Peter, right?”

Peter looks up at him through the hair in his eyes and positively beams. His bright smile lights up the entire fucking room and Tony is too dazzled by it to do anything but sit there, gobsmacked and stammering, for a few moments while Peter replies.

“Peter Parker. It’s nice to, uh, meet you?” The kid holds out a hand for shaking but Tony knows that if he takes that hand there’s no way he’ll be able to let it go, no way he won’t be desperate to claim his Mate right then and there, so he settles for a cool, friendly smile and lets Peter’s hand hover for a few seconds awkwardly before dropping back to his side.

“You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around before.”

Peter nods enthusiastically again, clicking the lid of his pen over and over so that it becomes almost a comforting background noise for Tony to block out. Tony does his best to avoid looking directly into Peter’s eyes— not only because he fears it would be a little like looking directly into the sun, but also because the effects could be devastating. Tony can only imagine how he looks right now - flustered, absentminded, desperate - and he can’t risk Peter getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. Or the right one. No sticks at all.

“Just moved here with my Aunt. It’s pretty cool so far.” Peter tells him with all the enthusiasm of a small puppy. There’s a story there and Tony’s curious, but he instructs himself not to ask any questions. Right now all he is to Peter is a strange, nosy teacher and he doesn’t want to freak the kid out and ruin his chances of wooing him naturally altogether.

“What other classes are you taking?” Tony inquires, storing away all this information to process at a later date. He half expects Peter to wilt what with talk of school but if anything - if it’s humanely possible - he perks up even more.

“Chemistry and advanced chemistry. Not much variety but… I know what I like.” Peter shrugs, smiling self depreciatively with no knowledge of how his words have just effected Tony. He knows what he likes, Tony thinks fighting off a shudder. He only just manages to stop himself from asking what it is, exactly, that Peter likes.

“No, I know what you mean.” Tony hastens to agree with him, surprised at how easy it is to talk to Peter. He had thought that maybe it would be difficult, they wouldn’t have anything in common, the age difference would mean there were awkward silences and uncomfortable moments. But if anything the opposite is true.

“If you know what you want to do there’s no reason to take pointless courses.” Peter nods as he speaks, smiling openly.

“You know, the teachers at my old school would disagree with you.” He jokes afterwards, twisting in his chair to face Tony. Tony mirrors the action so they’re both seated towards each other. “They weren’t as friendly as the teachers here.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony prompts, hoping Peter decides to go on. It’s nearing the end of the lesson but Tony can’t be bothered to check who did the work or set homework. He thinks he’d be content to just sit here for the rest of the day, just talking to Peter.

“We didn’t have as much freedom to choose classes back there. Plus they sort of had a serious drugs problem.” Peter giggles at Tony’s shocked expression— it’s not like Tony hasn’t been exposed to these sorts of things, of course. He works in a high school, for God’s sake, but he works in a semi-prestigious high school, where the most scandalous drugs story involves a teacher rather than any students.

“Is that why you moved?” Tony asks.

Peter’s smile slips. It’s only a little and only for a second, but it’s there and Tony sees it. 

“Oh. Um, not exactly—” Peter is in the middle of replying when the bell rings, signifying the end of the lesson. There’s an almighty screech as every student in the room pushes their chair back and rushes for the door like a herd of wild animals. Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes: it’s the same every year. Is he really that terrifying?

“Well,” Peter shrugs his backpack over his shoulders and grins up at Tony, eyes crinkling around the corners with deep dimples round his mouth that Tony wants to run his thumb over. “It was great to meet you, Mr Stark. I’m really looking forward to physics this year.”

With that he’s heading for the door, leaving Tony in a state of confused, conflicted arousal.

***

Peter is no stranger to starting new schools. He’s started mid year before, once even mid exam season, so starting a new year at a new high school really shouldn’t bother him as much as he’s being bothered right now, but he doesn’t know what to do. Something feels different about this place, but he can’t tell whether it’s good different or bad different.

Maybe it’s just because of Ben. Maybe it’s because he never got to look around this school with May, never got to meet the headmaster. Maybe it’s because he’s buried six feet under in a cemetery back near their old home and Peter has left everything that reminds him of Ben back in their old house. 

Maybe, maybe not.

A plus side to this whole moving thing is the teachers, Peter decides, thinking back to Mr Stark’s physics lesson. He’d heard scary tales of how strict the man is, how terrified he makes the freshmen, and he can see where they’re all coming from. But his first impression of the man is the opposite: he made an effort to speak to every single student in his class, didn’t make them introduce themselves to the class in that anxiety inducing way that other teachers do. He seems like a great teacher, and a friendly person.

It probably helps that he’s ridiculously attractive as well. He’s tall, dark and handsome, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a suit tailored to his exact proportions to give him a shave, gentlemanly feel. And his smell— Peter couldn’t remember the last time an Alpha had ever smelt so good to him. Up until now most of the Alphas he’s met have been family friends and even if they’ve had a good smell Peter has always associated it with comfort and family as opposed to arousal. This though… Mr Stark’s smell is something else entirely.

God, maybe Peter’s just been hormonal. He needs to check his schedule and find out when his next heat is due, start taking his suppressors again. After Ben died he got sloppy with his schedule, started missing his meds, but now he’s at a new school with attractive Alpha teachers like Mr Stark that he’s going to be spending a lot of time around, he should probably get on top of it all. It wouldn’t do to go into heat in the middle of his classroom, no matter how many of his fantasies will be starting that way from now on.

The school cafeteria is better here as well. They actually have hot meals rather than unhealthy snacks and day-old leftovers. The only problem is where to sit. Peter hasn’t exactly made any new friends here; at first he had thought he wouldn’t talk to people out of some dedicated loyalty to Ned, but after Ned has strictly forbade him from doing that he had to admit the truth to himself.

He’s scared. He’s terrified. Peter has always been bad at socialising and making new friends - he’s too overenthusiastic or eager or talkative - and he’d rather just stay out of everybody’s way than annoy people. But now he actually wants to make friends, he wants to get to know people and form meaningful relationships with them and all that other bullshit you see on trash TV shows.

But he has no idea how to do that. The cafeteria is packed full of teenagers and all of them are in preformed groups. If Peter tries to join one now he’ll be the annoying new kid that forced his way into an already existing group. He sighs and slides his tray onto the nearest empty table, resigns himself to eat alone today and probably for the rest of his time at this school.

He’s just about to bite into his sandwich when someone says, “You look lost and it’s giving me anxiety.”

Peter jumps out of his fucking skin, crushing the sandwich between his fingers as he whirls around, looking for who spoke. What he thought had been an empty table he now sees has one single person sitting at it: a girl, about his age, with darker skin and soft looking brown hair falling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She’s gorgeous, and Peter can smell the Alpha pheromones rolling off her.

“Sorry— I was just… um,” Peter stammers out a bunch of nonsensical words, strung together to make a longer nonsensical sentence. The girl rolls her eyes and goes back to her notebook, pen scratching away in a hectic way so that Peter can’t tell if she’s writing or drawing. Peter looks from side to side, wondering if someone is about to join her, but she looks content to be on her own.

So of course, Peter decides to be the one to join her. He edges closer, sliding his tray up the table with him.

“So…” he starts, not looking at her. “You been to this school long.”

“What makes you think I go to this school?” She replies, not looking up from her book. Peter frowns, looking around once again to make sure she actually is here, and people aren’t pointing and laughing at Peter for talking to himself. Nope. It would appear the girl is real.

“Um, you’re eating in the school cafeteria?”

“Am I?” She asks. Peter blinks. She continues. “I can hear you thinking. It’s annoying— stop it.”

Peter doesn’t say anything after that. He eats his sandwich and gazes around the room, taking in everything that seems to be going on, while the girl draws or writes or whatever next to him. By the time the bell goes for the end lunch Peter has almost forgotten that she’s there, and he chooses to believe that’s a good thing. The girl stands up and hooks a satchel over her neck. Before she’s about to leave she turns back to Peter and looks him up and down.

“I’m Michelle.” She says, and leaves before Peter can tell her his name. 

So far, this school has been full of surprises.