Chapter Text
Logan’s POV
I could feel the anger and fury practically radiating off of me in waves as I briskly made my way through the almost empty halls of Hopkins High School – the place where my eldest son, one Milo Elias Robin Huntzberger, only a few months shy of his seventeenth birthday, was probably going to fall victim to a quick and almost painless death. Quick and painless, if he possessed enough common sense as well as intact survival instincts to come forward with an explanation to his latest escapades, that was. A very good, very solid explanation.
I must have looked quite the fright with both of my hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists, my facial expression undoubtedly contorted into a fierce scowl and my eyes glinting with irritation and sheer dangerousness, because the few other students that did cross my path either gasped in surprise, gulped noisily when they spotted the look upon my face or even turned on their heels and hurried into a different direction.
It was all the same to me. At the very moment, I honestly didn’t care if one of them chose to have my scary “angry-dad-face” as their next Halloween mask. At the very moment, I only had one goal – I wanted to barge into the headmaster’s office where I was bound to come upon my defiant spawn – my very much in trouble defiant spawn – and once I was able to get my hands on him, I would…
“Mr. Huntzberger?” an elderly lady asked tentatively as I came to a sudden halt in front of the headmaster’s office.
I whirled around and all but glared at her – as quickly as I had sent that very glare her way, though, I took a deep breath and rearranged my expression. I didn’t want to be hauled out of Milo’s school because Mrs. Norris, the headmaster’s secretary, had been killed by one of my furious looks.
As it turned out, I wouldn’t have needed to worry about her at all, as she was now sending her very own death-stare in my direction. I cleared my throat and walked over to her desk, an apology already on my lips – I never got the chance to utter it, though.
“Mr. Tomlinson is already waiting for you,” Mrs. Norris stated coolly, pursing her lips. “Young Mr. Huntzberger is with him, of course.”
“Thank you,” I replied, wincing a little at how hoarse my own voice sounded.
Mrs. Norris turned her attention back to her computer, choosing not to address my thanks. Squaring my shoulders, I exhaled deeply without making a noise and placed my hand on the doorknob in front of me, turning it.
When I opened the door, two sets of eyes simultaneously flickered towards me. One set of eyes looked at me expectantly and rather dismissive, the other, younger pair – the one that was so much like my own – was narrowed and almost mirroring the glare I had levelled at Mrs. Norris outside a few minutes before. It surprised me, but I refused to show it. I hadn’t expected Milo to give me any dirty looks, not today. Wasn’t he aware of how much trouble he was currently in?
“Mr. Huntzberger,” greeted the man behind his massive desk before I could say something. “So good of you to come.”
The light sarcasm in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by me – and not by my son, either. Milo turned his glare away from me and right at the headmaster.
“I came as soon as I got the call,” I stated, making Mr. Tomlinson smile briefly. He nodded, raising both his bushy eyebrows.
“Still… a doctor of your reputation and stature sure has more pressing matters at hand than picking his teenage son up from school,” the headmaster drawled and stood up from his seat, reaching out a hand. I considered not shaking hands with him, but of course, that wasn’t an option.
“A teacher of your reputation and stature will agree with me that children are our greatest good. In other words: Nothing is more important or pressing, as you put it, than being there when one of my kids is facing trouble of some sort,” I shot back, not missing a beat. A quick glance at Milo made me raise an eyebrow – the boy was smirking! And not only that: he was smirking rather triumphantly. Honestly, what had happened here? Junior, what have you gotten yourself into?
Thankfully, Milo got his facial expression under control before the headmaster and I had stopped shaking hands and before Tomlinson had the chance to notice. He dropped his gaze and just stared at the floor.
“Truer words were never spoken. Please take a seat,” the headmaster flashed me an unpleasant smile and reclaimed his own seat, watching me over the rims of his round glasses like a hawk.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting down.
“Well, now that we are all gathered, let’s start. Shall we?” Tomlinson suggested, lazily leafing through a record in front of him.
“Milo Elias Robin Huntzberger, captain of-“ he started to read, but was cut off by my son.
“Just Milo,” the teenager interrupted him flippantly. “And if you’re talking about the position of being captain of the soccer team, I wasn’t appointed yet… sir.”
The “sir” was rather hastily added in the end, as I put my right arm around the back of his chair and placed my hand to the back of his neck, giving it a light squeeze.
It was meant as a small warning and as a placating gesture on my part – there really was no point in riling Mr. Tomlinson up.
The headmaster gave him a look of pure irritation, then dismissed Milo’s input as he began to read once more: “Milo Elias Robin Huntzberger, soon-to-be captain of the soccer team. Executive chairman of Hopkin’s Debating Society. Member of the Science Club and what…? You’re part of Hopkin’s drama group as well?”
He looked up from the sheet he’d been reading off and gave first me, then my son a surprised look.
“Well, I’m not nearly as busy a man as you, Mr. Tomlinson, but-“ Milo began, sarcasm practically dripping from his every word.
“Don’t, Milo. Cool it,” I advised, giving his neck another gentle squeeze.
Mr. Tomlinson’s jaw and mouth twitched as he smiled winningly. He adjusted his glasses with his forefinger.
“It’s nice to see a parent and child where the father actually knows how to keep his son in line for a change,” he commented rather conversationally, but his eyes told a whole lot of a different story. They were as cold as ice, glaring at the teenage boy in front of him. “Most of the time, it’s the other way round these days.”
I chose not to give an answer to that and simply nodded, praying to the high heavens that Milo would keep his mouth shut as well.
“Where were we? Oh, yes. I almost forgot,” Tomlinson went on. “Your record states that you’re on top of almost all of your classes. Straight As and good Bs mostly. The last C was… in English, last term. You only got part credit for three missed homework assignments in a row. Other than that, there’s nothing negative to be found in here about you, Mr. Huntzberger. You’re usually a well-conducted young man, too. Your teachers’ notes are nothing short of hymns of praise.”
At the headmaster’s recounts, I couldn’t help the small, proud smile that crept onto my face and – without a doubt – even made my eyes sparkle. A familiar feeling of warmth spread inside of me. My studious, smart and well-behaved young man.
“I’m quite positive that everyone in this room already knows all about my grades. I’m also quite positive that you’re not trying to just mention them willy-nilly or that you even like to talk about my academic accomplishments, so could you please be so kind and get to the point? It’s like you said, sir, my father is very busy and has better things to do than sit here and listen to all that boloney.”
Scratch what I said earlier and replace it with: My cocky, mouthy, frustrating and soon-to-be sorry little boy.
“Hey,” I admonished, leaning over and turning the back of Milo’s chair towards me in one, rather jerky movement. The boy looked at me and I saw that he was regretting his choice of words. A streak of worry crossed over his features – and rightly so.
“Does your father need to do something about that attitude of yours? Fix it, maybe? I’m sure there’s an empty classroom somewhere in that dignified building where we can go to for a bit. Just to stretch our legs, you know,” I drawled pointedly, completely ignoring the approving snort the headmaster gave and concentrating solely on my son.
“No, I’m good. Sorry,” Milo mumbled, only holding eye contact with me for about ten seconds before dropping his gaze once more. I instantly noticed how his cheeks flushed and to be completely honest, it gave me a feeling of satisfaction. Maybe he’d deserved that bit of… well, humiliation. Maybe it even helps to keep his smart mouth in check for the rest of our talk, I thought to myself.
“No more outbursts from you. Got it?” I pressed sternly as I reached out and gently lifted his chin up with two fingers to get him to look at me again.
“Yes, Dad.”
“Wonderful,” I nodded and watched how he grabbed his chair’s arms and nudged it back to where it was before.
Looking back to Tomlinson, I cleared my throat.
“Mr. Tomlinson, I apologise for my son’s unnecessary as well as disrespectful tirade,” I said, then raised a questioning eyebrow. “But, as disrespectful as it might have been, he does have a valid point. You still haven’t explained fully why we are here today. You called me about an hour ago and told me that he broke several school rules and is on the verge of expulsion… now I would very much like to know why.”
“Ah. Now I see where our executive chairman of the school’s Debating Society and honorary member of the drama group has his… notable traits from. Anyway, the simple question that I’m proposing here is: Where did young Mr. Huntzberger here, obviously one of the best students that ever went to Hopkin’s Private High School, get the idea that he could use today’s recess to drink alcohol out of a hip flask and smoke cigarettes?”
Closing my eyes briefly, I sighed and put a hand to my forehead. 3-2-1, hello, headache!
I then turned slightly, cocking my head to the side and giving my wayward sixteen-year-old who was moodily staring into space a fierce look.
It took a few seconds for him to realise that I was watching him or to gather up the courage to look up and meet my eyes, but when he did, it was as if all the cockiness and rudeness left his lean body all at once – at least for now. He bit his lower lip and gulped audibly.
Oh, little troublemaker. You’re so dead!