Parent Trapped
❧ Summary: A student of yours tries to play matchmaker.
❧ Pairing: Mark Meachum x Teacher!Reader
❧ Wordcount: 2.1k
❧ Warning: Too much fluff. Cuteness overboard
Main Masterlist | Mark Meachum Masterlist | AO3 Link
“Miss L/N, do you have a boyfriend?”
You sat on the brightly coloured carpet with your students, fifteen six-year-olds, as the school day wound down. After a day full of maths, English, and art, you liked to end things their way. Sometimes that meant a dance party. Sometimes quiet time. And sometimes, like today, sitting together while they asked whatever random questions popped into their heads.
Today, the question came from little Charlie.
You chuckled. “I think you’re a little young for me.”
“No, Miss L/N,” he laughed. “I was just wondering.”
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you said. The class let out a collective aw of disappointment, which made you laugh. “It’s okay. I don’t need a boyfriend. Sometimes you need to focus on yourself and do what you need.”
“Like when I’m hungry and I need a snack?” a little blonde girl called Sophie asked.
“Exactly. Or when you’re tired and you need a nap.”
“Or when I need to go number two?” Scott added, making the rest of the class erupt into giggles.
“Sure,” you said, shaking your head fondly.
The bell rang, signalling the end of the day. “Alright, everyone. Collect your bags and jackets and follow Miss Roman outside. Have a good weekend, and I’ll see you next week.”
A chorus of enthusiastic goodbyes followed as your class filed out of the room.
Seated at your desk, grading papers, you glanced around the classroom as your students happily coloured in their drawings. The girls at the back whispered excitedly about their new Barbies, while the boys at the table in front of you debated their favourite Transformers and which cars they’d be.
Little Charlie approached your desk, holding up his finished colouring. “Here, Miss L/N. I drew a police car.”
You took the paper, noticing how carefully he’d stayed almost entirely within the lines. “Good job, Charlie. You did such a great job.” You smiled at him. “Why did you choose a police car?”
A spark of excitement lit his eyes. “My dad works for the LAPD. He gets to drive those cars with the lights on.”
“Oh wow, that’s cool.”
Charlie gasped dramatically. “The coolest, and the bravest! He helps protect the city. Like Batman, but better.”
You chuckled. “He’s better than Batman?”
Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. And he’s funnier.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah! He told me a joke.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What do you call a train full of bubble gum?”
“I don’t know. What do you call a train full of bubble gum?”
“A—” He burst into laughter before he could finish, wheezing as he tried again. “A chew-chew train!” he squealed between breaths. You couldn’t help laughing too. It was a classic dad joke, but Charlie’s laughter was infectious. Tears gathered in his green eyes as he wiped them away.
“That is a good one.”
“See?” he said proudly. “Told you he’s funny.” He reclaimed his colouring and skipped back to his desk.
The next morning, you moved around your classroom, setting up for the day just before the children arrived. Parent–teacher night was in a couple days, and you’d already started collecting work to show the parents. You were rifling through an old folder when Charlie came into the room.
“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” he chirped, hanging his jacket on the hook and sliding his bag into the little cubby. It was unusual for Charlie to be the first one there, but every now and then his dad dropped him off early if he really needed to get to work.
“Hey, Charlie. How are you doing today?”
“Good! Dad had to go to work early, so I’m here.” He shrugged as he plopped down into his usual chair. “Whatcha doing?”
“Well, I’ve finished everything for today, and now I’m getting some things ready for parent–teacher night next week.”
Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “What’s that?”
“Your parents come to school, and I tell them how you’re doing; if there are any problems and what you’ve been working on here.”
That familiar spark appeared as he straightened in his seat. “You’re gonna meet my dad?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to meet your dad.”
“Awesome!” He pumped his fist, making you chuckle. “I think you’ll like him.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, he’s really cool. And funny.” He leaned in slightly. “He’s always making ladies giggle. The other mums call him hot. But he never seems like he’s warm.”
You smiled at him. “Hot has a couple of meanings. One is temperature, like warm or boiling. In this case, they mean he’s handsome or good-looking.”
“Ohhhhhh.” Charlie nodded solemnly. “That makes sense. He is handsome.”
Before you could respond, the rest of the class began to file in, filling the room with noise and movement. The chaos of the day began.
While the kids were out on the playground for lunch, you escaped to the teachers’ lounge for a brief break from the chaos. With a hot cup of coffee in hand, you stood by the window, watching the children run around outside.
“Enjoying the break?” Miss Roman, Ellie, came to stand beside you.
“You have no idea,” you chuckled.
“I swear someone put something in the water today,” Ellie said, taking a sip of her coffee.
“I don’t know how they have that much energy,” you sighed. “Honestly, I’m more jealous than anything.”
“You and me both.” She clinked her mug against yours. “So, are you ready for parent–teacher night next week?”
“Are we ever really ready?” you joked. “Yeah, I think so. Although one of my students is very excited for me to meet his dad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He keeps telling me how cool and funny he is. He also mentioned that other women call him hot.”
Ellie laughed. “Which student?”
“Charlie.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, his dad is hot. I saw him this morning when he dropped Charlie off early. Damn, that man.”
“Ellie!”
“What?” she grinned. “We usually get the complaining mums. It’s only fair that I get to appreciate the hot dads too.” She took another sip. “What else did he say?”
You shrugged. “Apparently he’s cooler and better than Batman. Oh—and last week Charlie asked me if I had a boyfriend.”
Ellie’s smile turned knowing. “Oh my god. Charlie’s being a mini matchmaker.”
“You think he’s trying to set me up with his dad?”
She shrugged, eyes sparkling over her mug. “Yep. You’re getting parent-trapped.”
The bell chimed, signalling the end of lunch and the children’s return.
You blinked. I’m getting parent-trapped?
Over the next few days, Charlie asked more questions and made more comments about his dad.
Tonight was parent–teacher night: the day little Charlie had been waiting for.
You sat at your desk that evening, waiting for the final parent to arrive: Charlie’s dad. He was already ten minutes late, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. So you waited. Just as you were packing up to leave, quick footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder as they approached.
“Sorry, I’m late.” He sounded breathless as he entered the classroom.
As you looked up from your desk, you couldn’t help but agree with Ellie; he was hot. Dressed in a black leather jacket, blue T-shirt, jeans, and boots, he somehow made a simple, effortless outfit look unfairly good. He ran a hand through his hair as it fell into his eyes. The same green eyes Charlie had. They felt strangely familiar as they met yours.
“Uh, it’s okay. Life, right?” you chuckled nervously. He tried to sit in one of the small chairs at the table where the kids usually sat, wiggling awkwardly as he attempted to get comfortable. You watched him struggle for a moment before gesturing to the chair opposite your desk. “Did you want to try the adult chair?” you asked, keeping your voice carefully neutral.
He cleared his throat, unwedging himself from the child-sized seat and moving to the chair in front of you. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s better.” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
“So, you must be Charlie’s dad?” you asked.
“Yeah, sorry. Mark Meachum.” He held out his hand.
You shook it, trying to ignore the small bolt of electricity that sparked at the contact. “Miss L/N, or you can call me Y/N.”
You opened your folder to Charlie’s page. “So… Charlie,” you smiled. “He’s doing really well. His reading and writing have improved a lot since the start of the semester. Maths takes him a little longer, but that’s nothing to worry about. He’s come out of his shell and made lots of friends. Definitely a character, not disruptive, but he does love making the other kids laugh. Especially the girls.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Probably gets that from me. The kid's already more charming than I was at his age.”
“He really is a charmer,” you agreed. “It’s hard to stay mad at him when he does get in trouble.”
“Trust me, I know.”
You smiled, seeing exactly where Charlie got it from, and trying very hard not to fall under the same spell. “But yes,” you finished, “he’s doing really well.”
Mark let out a breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s good to hear. Really good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I was worrying too much. Typical overprotective dad stuff.”
“No,” you said gently. “It’s nice that you worry about him.”
He nodded. “I just… worry I’m screwing him up. With my job not being the most stable, I’m not always there when he needs me.”
You stood, moving to the filing cabinet in the corner. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” you said, “but I think it’ll help.” You pulled out a folder and placed several pages in front of him. “I asked the kids to write about someone they look up to. Most chose superheroes. Charlie chose you.” Mark’s eyes widened as he stared at the paper, trying to make sense of the uneven handwriting. You watched as his expression shifted, surprise giving way to something deeper. “He talks about how cool and brave you are,” you added softly.
Mark picked up the drawings; police cars, stick-figure family portraits. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small, emotional smile. “He… he talks about me like that?” His voice was quieter now as his gaze met yours.
“Yeah,” you said gently. “He adores you.”
He swallowed hard. “Damn. I really thought I was failing most days.”
You shrugged. “I think I’m failing as a teacher most days.”
He chuckled softly. “You’re his favourite teacher.”
“I’m his only teacher,” you smiled. “But thank you. He was really excited for me to meet you.”
Mark tilted his head. “Yeah? He said the same about you.”
Your brow furrowed slightly. “Did he… mention anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been making a lot of comments about you lately,” you admitted. “How funny you are. How you’re cooler than Batman.” Mark chuckled. “How handsome you are. Or… hot, as the other mums apparently say.”
“Oh god.” He dragged a hand down his face. “He’s been doing the same to me. Talking about how kind you are. How pretty you are.” Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Kid’s got good taste,” he added before you could speak. Was he flirting with you?
The blush deepened. “There’s that Meachum charm,” you muttered.
“So,” he said, smirking, “he’s playing matchmaker?”
“Seems like it.”
Mark leaned back slightly. “Was he right?”
“About what?”
“How handsome, sorry, how hot I am?”
You groaned. “I am not answering that.”
“Maybe you could answer it over dinner sometime?” You froze. You had a rule about not dating parents. But Charlie had started all of this, and you couldn’t deny the warmth that had settled in your chest the moment Mark walked in. Maybe certains rules were made to be broken?
He stood quickly, clearly flustered. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to—Charlie talks about you a lot and I got carried away—”
You stood, taking a breath. “I’d love to go to dinner.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Friday?”
“I’m free Friday.”
He smiled, soft, almost disarming, and offered his hand again. “It was really nice to meet you, Y/N.”
You shook it, the spark flaring again. “You too, Mark. Good parent–teacher meeting.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Very good.”
You both lingered a moment too long before he finally stepped back. “See you Friday.”
“Friday,” you repeated, grinning.
He backed into the door without looking. “Damn door.” You laughed as he waved and disappeared down the hall. You sank back into your chair, heart racing, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.
Nicely done, Charlie.
Part Two
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