Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Vice Principal Panch!”

Panch whacks the bell, a ding ringing throughout the room.

“Vice Principal!”

Ding.

“They won’t let me be Principal!”

Barfée yells in Panch’s general direction.

“Gee, I wonder why!”

Mitch rushes over to Panch, and the vice principal can vaguely hear Logainne spelling panickedly as he’s dragged off the stage in a headlock.

Panch doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but he’s sure he’s protesting as he’s shoved into the hall outside of the gymnatorium.

“Spent twenty years at this school and no one will let me be in charge, no one—”

Douglas is punched in the stomach.

His protests are cut off as he gasps and wheezes, trying to regain his breath.

“It’s a spelling bee, jackass, calm down!”

Panch inhales one more time, shakily, and looks up at Mitch.

Who has just punched him in the stomach.

Mitch shakes out his hand, readjusting his glove.

“Don’t yell at the damn kids, anyways.”

“Is this your job?”

Panch, despite still practically wheezing for breath, manages to spit out the words semi passive-aggressively.

“Shouldn’t you go comfort…”

Inhale. Exhale.

“Miss Schwartz…Schwartzy Grobaniee—”

“Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre.”

Panch is corrected.

“Her. Yeah. Isn’t your job to comfort…counsel…her? Why are we here?”

Mitch stares at Panch for a few seconds before leaning against the wall.

“Because you were being disruptive.”

Panch would laugh if he wasn’t winded.

“Miss Ostr…Ostravaski—”

“Olive Ostrovsky.”

“Why do you know their names?”

“It’s my job. Why don’t you?”

Panch exhales shakily once more before standing up straight, clutching his stomach and joining Mitch in leaning against the wall.

“I know their names. Just a bit…distracted…from.”

He waves a hand at Mitch.

“Y’know. You.”

“I’m flattered.”

There is dry sarcasm in Mitch’s voice, and Panch hurries to backtrack.

“Not you you, you punching me in the stomach—”

“You deserved that.”

“Anyways, I was not the disruptive one. Miss…Ostrovsky, got the call from her father.”

Panch exhales shakily one more time, finally semi-regaining his breath.

“That was the disruption. That’s what caused the agitation.”

He pauses.

“That, and Miss…Schwartzy’s, stalling.”

Mitch still seems annoyed.

“That caused you to flip out and start yelling at everyone?”

“In my defense.”

He paused, hesitating.

“I’m on a lot of competing medications.”

Mitch laughs. Panch huffs, looking away.

“That’s not funny.”

Mitch covers up his laughter with a cough.

“No, that’s…no it’s not. Tell that to the jury.”

“The jury?”

Mitch waves a hand.

“The kids you terrified.”

“Ah.”

There’s a slightly awkward silence before Mitch reaches into the pockets of his jacket and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

“No smoking on school grounds,” The words come out of Panch almost instantly, but flatly, as if he’s been programmed to say them. Mitch raises an eyebrow.

“Y’gonna stop me?”

“…No.”

Mitch makes a small hum in the back of his throat, and Panch averts his eyes as the ‘comfort counselor’ lights his cigarette.

“You want one?”

“No, I don’t…I don’t smoke.”

“Interferes with the competing medications?”

Panch glares at Mitch. He raises his arms, one hand holding a semi-lit cigarette.

“Not funny. My bad.”

“It was not.”

There’s a less awkward silence before Mitch talks in between drags.

“Why the medications?”

“What?”

“Your ‘competing medications’. Why?”

“They’re for…”

Panch trails off, staring down at the floor.

“Don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s fine. They’re for…lots of things. Not any one major issue.”

He looks over at Mitch, and is slightly surprised to find the other man alrighty looking at him. Panch coughs, regaining his thoughts.

“Started taking more after my ex-wife—”

“You’re divorced?”

Panch winces. That was an unintended reveal.

“Yeah. Don’t…don’t tell people, it’s not something I’m proud of.”

Mitch scoffs. “Yeah, I wouldn’t think so.”

Panch laughs dryly. “They’re for a multitude of things. Anxiety, mostly. Insomnia, stress, allergies…medications to lower the side effects of other medications.”

He trails off into silence, looking blankly at the wall before turning back to Mitch.

“I can’t have a lot of things, unless I wanna take more meds to cancel that out.”

The vice principal shrugs. “And I’d rather not have to take more crap than I already do.”

There’s another quick bout of silence before Panch talks again.

“As you can imagine, my insurance isn’t the cheapest.” Mitch snorts out a laugh, and Panch smiles weakly.

“I almost don’t blame you for being stressed, man.”

“Almost?”

“…Almost.” Panch laughs; genuinely, for the first time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s fair.”

Mitch looks out into the hall, where it looks like one of Logainne’s fathers is trying to comfort her.

“…You should head back soon, Principal.” The casual misused title ticks Panch off slightly, and he huffs before standing up straight off of the wall.

“Vice Principal.” He corrects Mitch halfheartedly before dusting off his suit. The comfort counselor pats Panch on the shoulder in an attempt to…comfort, apparently.

“You’ll get there one day, man.”

“I doubt it.”

“If y’stop believing, it’s never gonna happen, is it?” Panch pauses, and stares at Mitch.

“…Surprisingly inspirational coming from you, Mr. Mahoney.” Mitch shrugs, and takes his hand off of Panch’s shoulder to remove the cigarette from his mouth.

“Gotta do my job as comfort counselor somehow, dude.”

“I don’t think it was anywhere in the job description to ‘comfort’ the overmedicated word pronouncer.” Mitch laughs loudly at that—snorting and covering his mouth. Panch grins semi-awkwardly.

“I don’t think it was that funny.” Mitch snorts once more, coughing before regaining his composure.

“Nah, it wasn’t.”

“…Then why’d you—?” Mitch shrugs, taking one last drag before crushing the cigarette between his pointer finger and thumb.

“Maybe I’m going crazy. Y’ever consider that?”

There’s silence as Panch stares at Mitch.

“…No?” Mitch chuckles, flicking his cigarrette butt into a nearby trashcan.

“Glad for the vote of confidence, Mr. Vice Principal.” Mitch starts to walk back into the gymnatorium, and Panch is about to follow.

“Douglas.” Mitch stops, turning around to face him.

“What?” Panch takes a few quick steps to catch up to Mitch.

“Just Douglas is fine,” He pauses, smiling weakly before continuing. “Doug, if you feel radical.”

Mitch chuckles slightly, then nods.

“Doug, then. Let’s go do our jobs.”

Mitch pushes Douglas out into the gymnatorium, the vice principal readjusting the lapels of his coat as Rona shoos Logainne’s father offstage. Mitch takes his spot among his stacks of juiceboxes.

“I would like to apologize for the outburst…” Doug pauses, Rona turning to face him. His eyes flick towards Mitch for a second, and he clears his throat.

“In my defense, I’m on a lot of competing medications.”

Rona rolls her eyes and walks over to sit beside him. Douglas looks at the comfort counselor for another few seconds, and Mitch raises a Kool-Aid packet in semblance of a toast. Doug raises his hand in response, half-heartedly grinning.