A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

Preacher Teacher (Raises Hell)

Prompt by @anon: Prompt by @anon: hiiiiiiii I saw you did one of the dialogue prompts and I was wondering if you could do the one where it was like "You touch them again and I'll kill you". plz and thx <33

**TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHILD ABUSE AND MILD INJURIES**

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

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When Tony parked his car in front of Midtown High School, the lot was basically empty.

Checking his watch, the man sighs and leans back a little further against his seat, the afternoon sun flickering between the trees as he glares outside. Turning the radio up a bit, Tony glances at his phone, frowning when his last text to Peter is still marked as unread.

He waits for a few more minutes, watching as the bell rings and bunches of kids spill through the doors, jostling each other and laughing. Sitting up now, the man looks through the crowd, feeling his slight confusion begin to spike into panic when his child's smiling face is nowhere to be seen.

Gripping the steering-wheel tighter, Tony grits his teeth and takes a deep breath.

It's fine. He thinks, his leg beginning to bounce. Peter's fine. Just running a little behind. He's fine.

It isn't until, after waiting another 15 gruesome minutes and watching as parents and buses drive off, that the billionaire allows himself to leave the car and half walk, half jog up the steps. He enters the school, his leather shoes squeaking against the dirty tile as he approaches the front desk.

"My son, Peter Stark, was supposed to be dismissed about 20 minutes ago." Tony says in lue of a greeting, sniffing in annoyance when all the woman does is stare blankly at him. "Is there any way you could tell me where he is?"

"Uh, well, uh Mr. Stark." She says, squinting down at her paper. "It would seem, sir, that Peter is currently serving detention with Mr. Harris. His room is number 112, down the hall and to the left."

Tony feels his blood go cold, his left hand balling into a fist. He shifts so that he is leaning more fully against the desk, the wood creaking.

"Detention, was it?" Tony asks, voice biting as he plasters on a fake smile. "Do you know why Peter got detention, ma'am?"

The lady shakes her head. "I'm afraid not, sir. That information is between the student and the teac--"

"Thank you. What was the room number again? 112? Awesome, I'm assuming it's down this way?"

"Uh, n-no, sir. It's down that um, that way."

The receptionist, her fingers shaking around a flowered decorated pen, points to a long hallway behind her, eyes widening when Tony immediately takes off in that direction without as much as a backwards glance.